Hunter
by Alicia Moonstoan
Summary: Sequel to my other story Lifetime. Can be read as a stand alone. Lea has been a Proxy for just over a year now. In that year she's seen a lot of things a teenage girl probably shouldn't, and experienced stuff adults wouldn't be able to handle. It's only thanks to a mixture of luck and support from a group of friends and higher-ups that she isn't dead. Then the Hunters arrive...
1. Chapter 1, Prologue: Lea

**AN: **Hello and welcome back to another completely insane fanfiction. It's good to see everyone again after that little break. (If you're a first time reader, this is fine, but you might want to read my other fic Lifetime to get the whole story.) After a quick review of the poll, I decided that I would perform all three of the choices all at once, so it was kind of a fluke. I mean it was either tear your feelings to shreds, or make it not so painful. Not so painful. The "rip your feelings to shreds" thing can wait.

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Chapter 1, Prologue: Lea

Hunter: n. 1. A person or animal who hunts. 2. A person searching for something.

It's not everyday you're at rock bottom, but when you're there, it seems to stretch on forever. Time lingers longer and every minute lasts an eternity. There's absolutely nothing worse than that feeling.

I've been there, too many times. When the world just decides to crush you, there's nothing you can do to stop it. On top of that, sometimes you realize it's your own fault.

So I feel some sympathy for the man on the public bench.

His head rests in his hands, sandy hair ruffled and in disarray. There's a certain dignified air about him, and I suspect he's fallen quite far to end up like this. Then again, maybe he hasn't fallen at all, only believes he has. You can never really tell.

I approach him, two sandwiches in hand. I doubt I'll be able to stomach one in my current state, but the other is for other purposes.

I like to carry a little charity with me, and since I rarely have money, my offerings generally take the shape of goods. Even if I don't find anyone to give it to, there are plenty of people that stop by and most of them like food. Most.

These small things keep me sane, and keep my karma up. It doesn't hurt to relieve the guilt that sometimes clings to me, despite my rationalizations of my actions.

"Tough day?" I ask, surprised by my voice's rusty feel. I clear my throat, embarrassed.

He raises his head to see me, and my heart jumps 10 beats per minute. He nods, letting his head fall forward again.

I ignore my screaming intuition and sit beside him, "Care for a sandwich?"

The man accepts the proffered meal, but doesn't unwrap it.

I unfold the paper on my sandwich carefully, meticulously. It's a habit I have, and the smallest tear in the material irritates me. I suppose this is a side-effect of my occupation, though I never quite worked out why.

The hot sandwich steams slightly in the night air. Even in the city, it's cold enough to see the vapor. Through the choking aroma of pollutants, gas fumes, and humans, I can smell the food. On a normal day, for a normal person, the perfume would have caused a flood of saliva.

Right at this moment, I observe the sandwich with a kind of detached interest. I take a bite, and it's like I'm tasting the food from very far away, like someone else is doing the eating, and I'm just receiving the echo.

The thought causes my body to reject the food, but I hold onto it and force it down. I need the energy.

Beside me, the man sighs, shifting slightly.

I don't have to look to know he's staring at me out of the corner of his eye. I'm glad for the hood which hides my face, and hopefully he won't recognize the black backpack or my body language. The later might give me away, though I've worked hard to wipe out the influences of my time spent working for them.

I wait patiently for a moment and then…

"I messed up," He says despairingly, "I messed up really bad."

I smile, swallowing another tasteless bite. Give them enough time and an unjudging stranger to talk to, and people will tell their stories. Most of the ones I hear I don't really want to, but this one is of interest to me.

I want to get inside this guy's head.

"What did you do?"

He looks down, "Where I work, I can't really describe it more, we had a worker. Not really legally, but she was there because she wanted to be."

"Worker?!" I cut him off, my voice suitably questioning and disgusted.

"Not like that. She did reconnaissance and retrieval. Only ever got one mission in though. Did a good job." He sighs, "I got attached to the girl."

"Is she dead?" I play dumb, successfully ignoring the "attached to her" comment.

"No, I don't think so. She's missing. One day, a week or so after her arrival, something happens in the lab. All the cameras go out, all the electronic locks short-circuit, and all hell breaks loose."

I take another bite of my sandwich, "And?"

"And three employees in the lab were killed. One eaten alive, and the other two killed by a blade. And a large number of subjects were set free. And artifacts disappeared. And she was in the lab, along with James, who might as well have been my son-"

"Was he the one?"

"Eaten alive," He nods, "but I can cope with that, we're trained to. What I can't cope with is that Lea was in that lab, in the most restricted area, against orders, and when the cameras come back on, she's gone. No trace, not even a scrap of cloth." He clenches his fists, "Just two dead bodies in an empty room."

"Maybe she left," I say on impulse.

"What?" It's the kind of horrified accusatory tone I try to avoid. He raises his head to look at me.

"It's too neat. She must have left on her own. She came because she had pretenses and left when she didn't anymore. She burned the records and killed the men. She set the subjects free and stole the artifacts." I look at him, my face still hidden in shadow, "It seems likely."

He shakes his head, "No. She was smart. She knew there was no way out of that facility. Sure, the subjects got out, but they're different. There's no way she would have even tried that stunt."

"Okay," I pause, "Then there was factor you're overlooking. From what you say, she was smart, mischievous, dark, but loyal, correct?"

"Sounds about right."

"Then the Loyalty Factor is what you're looking for. Who was she loyal to?"

He blinks, "The Org- oh, no. She wasn't, was she? She always was looking the other way, not quite believing what I said…" He sits up, and I smile. This is how I remember him; brilliantly clever. Now breaking him will be all the more fun.

"But then who…" He thinks, "She had someone she was loyal to. It was always in her eyes, that admiring fire."

Not many people can ignite that, I know this. He knows it too. I wait for the penny to drop.

"But before she came to us there was no one." I can hear the collision, "Oh god," He drops his head into his hands again, "It can't be. It can't possibly be."

The betrayal in his voice makes me flinch, but I recover as a savage rush of glee runs through me.

"Do you know what you just implied?" His eyes are wide and dangerous.

I blink, the actor on stage, "Not really. I have no idea."

"God, I can't believe it. It makes too much sense. She can't be, she just can't."

I look upwards, like I'm thinking deeply. This is too perfect. I'm going to break his psyche, then break his will. And then, in the future, I will kill him. I want to play with him a little more though.

"So you're here looking for her?"

He nods, "I asked around, and apparently she's been seen in this area." He shakes his head, "Not two days ago, I was positive she was in D.C. now she's suddenly here."

I smile, not a bad job. A few days off, but fairly accurate.

"But," I say slowly, "why would she do all that, the lab and the men, why?"

"I don't know," He sighs, "There really was no reason to do it."

I frown. Still a little dense, I see. It's a little disappointing. Then again, he doesn't understand. How could he?

"There's obviously something you don't know or don't understand. Maybe you should try to find it." I get up off the bench, re-wrapping my half-eaten sandwich.

I stare at my exposed wrist for a moment. the skin is almost pure white, and appears to glow slightly in the half-dark. I scowl; on top of everything else…

"What's your name?"

I turn to look at him. I must have changed more than I thought is he hasn't recognized figured it out yet.

"But you already know the answer to that. Try to think, Almes, it's not that hard. When you figure it out, maybe we can play again."

I spin and walk away, turning into an alley. I vanish into the air, and after a brief flash of gray solitude, I'm standing on the top of a nearby apartment building.

The second penny lands right on top of the first one, and I can hear the impact from the top of the building.

The Inspector, as his colleagues call him, leaps to his feet, eyes wide.

"Lea!" He shouts, rounding the corner.

Of course, I'm five stories above him, looking down.

It's been almost a year since a human said that name, though I guess master is a human technically.

I find I prefer Jack's soothing tone, Ben's childish cry, or even Jeff's deranged laughter to this human's voice.

It's an unexpected discovery, but maybe it's because of recent events.

With a sigh, I reach into my pocket. I find the small glass vial and pull it out. Popping the cap, I down the salty-sweet contents and watch the healthy living glow return to my skin.

I need to be more careful. The teleportation really takes a toll on me, and what with the job earlier today, I had been close to the edge.

"There's fresh blood on your hands," Says a small voice behind.

I look back, "Hello, Lacy."

The little girl blinks up at me with her pure-black eyes, "Where's your master?"

I shrug, "Saudi Arabia. He'll be back in an hour or so."

Lacy nods, holding out her childish arms.

I pick her up and sit on the edge of the roof, Her icy-cold arms feel good against my ever-feverish skin.

We both stare eastward, where somewhere far away, across the world, I can sense a red-stained room.

I rest my chin on Lacy's head, glad for her freezing temperature.

They're, we're, not all monsters. Lacy helps people, really helps them, and they thank her for it afterwards. I help too, in my own way. It generally falls to me to take care of this ragged bunch, as damaged as they are. Frayed around the edges, with bloody stains to wash off their hands before dinner. They all have their reasons.

I tilt my head back, looking up at the moon. It's blurred by artificial light and pollutants. How do the people here live without the stars? I can't fathom it, and I miss their light.

It's peaceful here, but I know that somewhere out there it's not. Because of me, there's a bloody puddle in a house, and doubtless the police will find the body soon. Then the usual investigation. Not that I'm worried, even if they catch me, they can't hold me. They can't possibly. There's only two organizations on this earth that could hold me now, and neither of them are in this city.

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**AN:** Hooray! First chapter of the new fic, Hunter, please tell me what you think! I'm having trouble getting my feet underneath me, so there won't be an update this weekend. Chapter 2 will be up by Jan. 12, and then back to the normal pattern. I completed the last one in just over 6 months (From ch. 2, because the first one was up for about 2 years) so we'll see how this one goes.


	2. Chapter 2: Slender

**AN: ** I have a new series of vocabulary words for first-time readers; platonic romance, pansexual, and asexual. Please learn them before you start assuming this is a romantic story.

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Chapter 2: Slender

I find Lea in the kitchen of the Proxy-house. Proxy-house meaning all of them use it and have access. Generally Lea will spend anywhere from a day to a week in a house and then move.

She's stirring a pot of something, probably soup. I know she already ate, but there's more than one reason to cook.

Lea's culinary skills are pretty well-known, even though she doesn't brag. Once she even got the "you would make a great wife" comment, to which she replied that she has no interest in marriage, "and definitely not with you."

The Proxy who gave her that compliment purposefully tracked her halfway across the country, and she very nearly tossed him out in a blizzard. Lea's not very approachable.

She sets aside the spoon, reaching to some spices sitting nearby. I can hear the bottles clin together through her. My own sense of hearing is nearly non-existent. About the only thing that reaches me is the odd echoing pounding of heartbeats.

"How many more in Seattle?" I ask.

Lea doesn't even look at me, "Just one. I've already established a pattern with him. I'll take care of it tonight."

I nod, even though I already knew this. She's stating the obvious. It's hard not to when the person you're talking to is mentally connected to you. The telepathy is almost more trouble than it's worth. Almost, but not quite.

It's always worth it.

"You found The Inspector?"

She shrugs, "He found me. Turns out he's been tracking me pretty closely."

"And yet you antagonized him? You really shouldn't." The last time The Inspector got involved things didn't end well.

"But it's so much fun to play with them," A predatory smile touches her face.

"You have a dark streak," I comment. I'm well acquainted with this. That dark streak is partly my doing, after all.

"And you're all dark," She replies easily. The statement is accompanied by a quick grin.

I can't help but feel a rush of fondness at the remark. It's one of the things that we repeat to each other, and it reassures us both.

That, and Lea never seems to bat an eye at my habits. The stalking and killing; they never really bothered her. She's not afraid of me. That's a rare thing. Once she told me that what really scared her was when I wasn't there.

She's one of the few who felt my presence their entire lives, and the only one who ever managed to reach me.

Actually, I saved her life. Neither of us talk about that. The memory is still a fresh scar on Lea's mind.

I've grown extremely attached to my Proxy. Neither of us can exist without the other.

Lea is listening to my thoughts as she cooks. It's a basic form of communication, and something we've been doing almost since we met. There were a couple of days of focusing to thin to eachother, and now we simply think and the other person hears.

Breaking the link between us causes severe mental and emotional pain. We never do that.

Lea physically twitches at the memory, drawing a sharp breath and then banishing the thought as she exhales. She resumes balancing spices and flavors, concentrating on the task.

I stay quiet as she works, as I often do. I'm not a very talkative person. As Slendermen go though, I'm probably the best a Proxy could get. I'm not extremely distant or demanding. I actually care about them, or at least about Lea. If I had been set with any other Proxy I don't know how things would have gone.

At the time she wasn't a Proxy, and I was barely self-aware. It was almost pure luck. I guess I have Max to thank for that. Too bad he's dead.

"You're thinking awfully far back," Lea interrupts my thoughts.

I shrug, "The past is important." All six hundred years of my past.

Lea nods, turning to face me. "Blood," She says, tapping to fingers on her cheekbone.

I raise a hand to my own face, or where my face should be. The fingers are stained red. It must have gotten on me earlier. I didn't even notice. My clothes never seem to stain, but my skin is another matter.

Lea sighs, "here." She steps forwards, stretching up with a towel to wipe away the blood. She leans into me slightly to reach. "I think you're the only one that does this."

That's probably true. She's the only Proxy who's this close to her master. I've seen the other pairs interact, and they always seemed so formal. The hierarchy is so clear, and the Proxies are so submissive. It always seemed wrong to me, like neither side is happy with the arrangement.

"I meant show up with blood on your face," Lea steps back, looking up at me. Her blue eyes blink at me from behind black bangs.

Maybe her eyes used to be happy, they aren't anymore. Trauma and pain have dulled them. I can see the spark now though, lighting up her whole face.

That's a look I know well.

She's wearing a mask of happiness over her real emotions. The act will fool 99% of people, but not me. I know she's faking.

` "Don't do that," I say quietly.

Lea lets the mask fall away and her face becomes almost expressionless. That's why she was cooking; to calm herself down. I know how she feels. Lack of emotion is almost a defense mechanism, and one that can damage you almost indefinitely.

Obviously she was more ruffled by The Inspector than she let on. He always did have a way of getting under her skin. I could always just kill him.

"Too risky," Lea cuts across my thoughts.

"I know, but it's tempting."

There's that predatory smile again, "It is,"

The turns back to the pot, turning off the heat and lifting it from the stove.

I watch her complete the action, and then I have to ask. "Are you actually going to eat that?"

Lea pauses for a moment, "No. There's another group coming in tomorrow, so they will."

"You should at least have some of it,"

"I'm not hungry,"

I just stare at her. She needs to eat. I know it and she knows it. She's watching me out of the corner of her eye, seeing what I'll do. Finally, she sighs, "Fine. You win."

She reaches up, opens a cupboard, and retrieves a bowl. She dips a ladle into the pot, filling the bowl about half-way with soup. Then she grabs a spoon from a drawer and starts eating, not bothering to sit down.

"I already ate today," She protests.

"But not enough. You need to keep your strength up."

Lea scowls, the spoon hovering before her mouth. She takes another bite, "Not that this food will help much in that respect. It's not exactly blessed by god."

Well, she's right about that. Neither of us is exactly on God's good side, so it's not going to happen any time soon. Not that God is really the person we need help from at this point, now if The Father gave his blessing to the food, it might help a little.

Lea coughs, her body almost rejecting the food. She sets the bowl aside, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "No more. I'll be sick."

I know she's not comfortable with this. She's almost never hungry, and doesn't eat unless someone makes her. I also know that, if left on her own, she would make herself.

Lea grabs a small bottle from the counter top, gulping down the contents. She sighs, relaxing slightly. "I'm coming apart at the seams."

I don't respond. It's a fact, not a conversation starter. And, like I mentioned before, I'm not a talkative person.

I leave the house again a few minutes later. Lea's fine on her own, and I want to get back to my, I guess you could say, job. More like pastime. Or compulsion.

Whatever you'd call it, I pause to select a victim in my personal world. It's all blurred gray lines and shapes in here. There's nothing solid at all, besides the ground.

I settle on one of the newest I have. He's still intact mentally, and has been for a while. He's of no consequence in the long run, but the smarter they are the more fun it is to watch them fall apart.

I used to just stalk and kill, like an animal. Now, I take my victims apart, piece by piece. I move things in their houses, take things, make them feel watched. It's almost like a game. Of course, they have no chance of escape.

The people I hunt have a certain light. It hurts me, physically, to experience that. I don't know what ties them all together, but they all have that light. I can sense them heading towards it, and those I begin to torment in hopes of keeping them away. As soon as one of them catches fire, well, I kill them.

And then there are those who have another kind of light that doesn't hurt. Then we come to Lea.

But that's not the focus. Right now I concentrate of ruining this guy's entire day. Mostly by scaring him until he's jabbering in a corner.

I start out by following him home, lurking at the edge of his sight. By the time he's back at his house, his eyes are flickering nervously, peering into every dark corner. He's also rubbing his head like he has a headache.

Then I stand so the television doesn't work properly, so that the screen begins flickering and the circuits crackle, and when he gets up to fix it, I move his chair across the room. That kind of instant movement has become my specialty. It has something to do with the way I move between dimensions and space.

I'm having fun watching him fall apart. Well, not fun exactly, but it's entertaining. In a kind of dark way.

As an extra touch, I allow him to catch sight of me for a moment before disappearing. I've become adept at doing so while being watched . Not many of my kind can, so I'm of some use at least.

The man is reduced to a shivering heap, desperately whirling in circles, searching for the monster he's sure he just saw.

I'm watching from my own gray-scape world.

I decide to let him rest for now, so he can be more alert later.

I wonder for a moment how an entire society formed around my kind. We're not exactly respectable, or kind for that matter. Just the opposite, actually. It's a mystery to me.

And yet there is a whole organization of Proxies out there. And they're making both my life and Lea's very difficult.

When I say "difficult" I don't mean too much work. I mean that the Proxies take a sick pleasure in constantly tearing at us. Their special skill is taking you apart, piece by piece, slowly ripping you to shreds from the soul up, using any means necessary, until there's nothing left.

They've done that to Lea once already.

* * *

**AN**: Well, I posted early. Mostly because I wanted to, but also, for those who read this, I will be attending a convention here in California on Saturday. I'm basically saying if you're going and you see a Masky walking around being mobbed by various people in various cosplays, say hello. And possibly we can have a chat.


	3. Chapter 3: Lea

Chapter 3: Lea

Waking up screaming, my mind in tatters.

I feel a sob well up in my chest, bursting from me, out into the air. I clap a hand over my mouth. My body is shaking, trembling with fear.

I had the same dream; the one that always comes back.

It starts out with me, walking through a gray world, peaceful. I call my master's name into the emptiness. Three times in all, always three.

Then he appears out of the strange fog and I run to him. He crouches down and hugs me, which is a display of affection I rarely see from him, and I hug him back. We stay that way for a long time.

Then he pushes me away from him, almost violently, and stands up. I can't speak and can't run as he bursts into flames, or is ripped open, or explodes, and always, always, his head falls off. The featureless head, falling off the shoulders.

The shock lasts only a moment, and then I feel bonds around my wrists and ankles and forehead. I'm strapped to a chair in a spot of blinding white, surrounded by pitch blackness. A figure steps forwards, their face hidden in shadow. In its hands are a knife, a needle, and a whip.

Then the torture begins.

Oh god, the torture. Ripping me apart from the soul outwards. Psychological and physical, all condensed. And I feel every ounce of the pain,

And then I wake up.

I let my head fall onto my knees and wait to be yanked from the peace, to be thrown back in the lab. Nothing happens.

I wait, and wait, and wait. I sigh at last. That's right; it's over.

It's not happening anymore.

I squeeze my eyes shut, saying that to myself over and over. "Not happening anymore, not happening anymore, not happening anymore,"

I get up, rubbing my eyes. I walk down the hall, not even bothering to grab something to put over my pajamas.

I enter the bathroom and take a shower, washing and rewashing my body. It feels as though I'll never be clean. My own blood burns ever warmer, my body temperature climbs slowly. I let the freezing water cool my skin, slowing the reaction.

Cold is better than hot. Ice is better than fire. I already have so much fire. Ice is pacient. But both burn.

I close my eyes, forcing my thoughts down again. The memory must be dealt with. I'm to experience it until it loses its potency. This is the only way to overcome the nightmares, I know. So I live hell again, standing in the water.

I cough again, this time because remembering almost makes me sick.

But I can feel the memory burning out a little, becoming a little fainter. The feeling means I'm stronger than the experiences; they're losing their power over me.

I open my eyes, turn off the water, step out of the shower.

The towel is soft and warm when I wrap myself in it, but the feeling is a small comfort. I rub the inside of my wrist, feeling the single long scar there.

I remember that cut, and I always will. That cut was my rebellion in the face of a worse-than-death situation. It has remained after all the others faded. It's the one time the careful knife slipped.

I push my damp hair back from my face, holding the towel with my other hand. Control is everything, I remind myself, control.

I step out of the bathroom and cross to the room I'm sleeping in. I glare at the empty air above the stairs. I don't trust seemingly-empty spaces. Often times there's something there.

I go into the room, scanning for intruders, then lock the door behind me. There's no harm in being cautious.

I dress quickly, uncovering myself for less than half a minute. It's something I've done all my life, and it comes from the constant feeling of being watches. And from more recent fear and paranoia.

Without missing a beat I begin gathering my weapons. It's almost three o'clock anyway. You always, always, want to be awake at 3:00. That, and it's the best time to work.

I primarily use knives, but am proficient with most weapons. Blades are the easiest weapons for me, and can be concealed without difficulty. I strap the two daggers at my waist and a hidden blade on my wrist.

Then I reach out, flexing my fingers over the mask. It's stained with black eyes and lips, the basic design, but is scarred with a red X which takes up the entire face, and two small black lines extending from either corner of the mouth.

This part always make me pause. It's not the mask itself, it's that the mask indicates I'm one of them; one of the Proxies. I am, but they're all wrong. They did this to me.

I pick it up with a sigh, sliding it on over my face. Now I'm not me anymore. I'm just another slave. But I can think for myself.

I set the stopwatch, wait until I see it start. I'm going for three minutes on this one, max. In reality it might take a minute and a half.

This kind of work is good for clearing my head. When I'm done I won't even remember the dream.

I take a breath, closing my eyes. I step forwards and find myself somewhere else when I open my eyes.

Specifically I find myself in another bedroom, with wood paneled walls and fancy end tables.

There's someone in the room. Asleep, as is every other sane person at three in the morning.

I don't waste time observing, striding up beside him. This guy is a witness. He saw something, more than likely Rake slipped up. Again. The Proxies don't want The Organization taking interest. They almost learned that lesson the hard way.

The head or the chest? The head will be quicker, but the chest is easier. No neck this time; it gets too messy.

I roll up my right sleeve, balling my hand into a fist. The blade slides out for a moment, then I let it slip away. Better use the stiletto.

I draw the long knife, moving it over his chest. I carefully pull the blankets down to expose the ribcage. Between the protective bones is a small weak spot over which I point the blade.

The man stirs in his sleep, opening his eyes a crack.

The knife slips between his ribs. Time slows.

The skin opens, muscle and fat, tendons, veins, all push against the knife's progress. Then the unmistakable vibration of a heartbeat, and that travels through the metal into my hand.

Blood wells up, pouring from the wound.

I wrench the knife out, stepping back. The man is awake, but can't speak. That's normal.

There will be no one to hear his last words.

I disappear again.

Strike quietly, strike quickly, and disappear without a trace.

I step to the bed, checking the stopwatch. Two Minutes thirty-five seconds. Not bad.

* * *

?

The girl pauses mid-bite, the pizza hovering before her mouth. She takes a deep breath, almost tasting the air. There's a scent there, underlying the food. It's something she hasn't smelled for months; sharp and bitter and musty and fresh all at once. It's death and fresh pine, blood and rain.

She leaps to her feet, rushing for the stairs. Her charge is asleep, he must be, and that means he's in danger. He has to be protected; more for her than for him. She couldn't care less what happens to him, but if she messes this up there will be no going back; no redemption.

The door is shut. She flings it open without hesitation, knowing she can take anyone and anything that may be behind it.

But there's nothing behind the door.

The girl doubles over, coughing the smell out of her lungs. She swallows back a flood of saliva and animal hunger. Blood. It's the smell of human blood. She looks again, her eyes watering.

There's a neat slit in his chest, sliding between two ribs. Blood is still running out of it, and the man is struggling for breath. Death rattles and shaking limbs. He's dying.

The girls steps forwards, leaning slightly to get a good look. Whoever did this was good. Too good. It almost doesn't look human. They just appeared in here, stabbed him, and vanished. Now that's serious skill and training.

But there's no signs of breaking and entering. The window is firmly latched from the inside, and the only other entrance is the door. So maybe they did just appear and disappear. That narrows down the suspects quite a bit.

Not that the suspects make a difference; she's not going to waste time hunting them down. This guy was a bore and a crybaby. She was going to ditch him anyway.

She examines the wound again. A blade, long and thin. No, this was a human, but no human smells like that. The horrible yet somehow hypnotizing scent. Oh, she's smelled it once before. It's not human.

"Rabbit," She calls.

Soft footsteps announce a dark-gray wolf. He stands beside the girl, looking up at her.

"Smell that?" She sniffs, "that's a Proxy."

The wolf snuffles at the air experimentally, then sneezes violently.

"Well; they found him. He found a creature, and they shut him up before he said a word." She sighs, "Good for them. I'm not cleaning this up."

The wolf sits on its haunches, gazing at the dead man for a moment. Then he speaks, "You know that they're going to do now."

She huffs, "I know. More people hunting, more chances of catching them."

"What're you going to do about it?"

"Nothing"

"The Bane are relentless."

"So am I, and they will not make me go after such prey. I will die first."

The wolf pauses for a moment, looking up at her, "It's because of her, isn't it?"

"Who?"

"You know who I mean."

"Nope."

"Admit it, Raun, it's been a year and you still remember her."

"I knew her for a week."

He almost chuckles, "And you put up with her for that long."

"Well that is an achievement," She snaps.

"Come off it; I've seen your phone."

The girl sighs, "Card form."

The wolf vanishes instantly, and a small purple card settles to the floor in its place. Emblazoned on its back is a black diamond.

The girl stoops to pick it up. She flicks it, then slides it into her pocket.

"So not remembering. Stupid Lea and her stupid secrets. And then she just leaves without a trace. Leaves me all alone out here, with nothing but a damn cell number which always goes straight to voicemail. Useless," She spits on the floor, "I hate her."

* * *

**AN: **The plot thickens! I'm having fun with this. Remember guys: I read every single review you post, so feel free to say anything.

That said: BookLovingPerson. I actually don't know the details. As far as I've been told; it has something to do with the tentacles and the way Slendermen kill people. They've only got their own bodies as weapons, and the victims are usually pretty torn up. Really, you'd have better luck asking Slender than me.


	4. Chapter 4: Slender

Chapter 4: Slender

Blood is a constant, I've always found that. Whether it's flowing to a heartbeat, of splattered over a room, blood is always present. I love and hate the liquid; love it because I always have, and hate it because it marks me as a monster, which I am.

At this moment I'm seeing the life fluid in the way I hate it more; splattered all over my Proxy. She's covered in the stuff and soaked up to the forearm on her left hand.

"Where does it come from?" She says in irritation, "I went for the chest so there wasn't a lot of arterial bleeding, but I'm still soaked."

She pulls her jacket off over her head. Her left hand and wrist are stained, giving the limb an eerie rust-like coating. She examines it disinterestedly.

"Lovely, now I have to wash this. Again." She holds the hooded jacket at arm's length, looking it over. Bloodstains bloom on the dark material.

Lea looks down at her tank-top and sighs, "At least this is clean."

I don't reply. I know she's just talking, and if she were alone she would be saying the words. I don't need to say anything. It's just like her to get all worked up over bloodstains. Not even on expensive clothes.

Actually, I don't think I've ever seen Lea in anything hugely expensive or more exposing than a school skirt. The odd thought makes me pause for a moment.

Lea cuts off my thoughts, "You know why," she shivers, "And before that there was no need for it."

Of course, it's because of that. The day we met each other, the day that started everything. Before that, Lea was just a kid. She had no concept of appeal or expense, so that explains it.

She folds up the stained jacket and sets it aside, rubbing at her stained arm. She scowls and disappears to wash off the gore.

I remain motionless. Maybe she'll come back, maybe she won't. You never know. Then again, I know she'll come back. There's not much to do elsewhere.

Sure enough, she enters the room after a couple of minutes, examining her arm for any traces of blood. She sits on the floor, leaning against the couch I'm sitting on so her back is towards me.

The gesture means she trusts me not to stab her in the back. It's something I've never seen another Proxy do, turn their back to a Slenderman. Lea does, but only to me. She never turns her back on Wolf even. I don't think she even realizes is; it's just instincts.

Right now she's a little off, cracked slightly, because of her dream of course. I feel bad that I was gone when it happened. Usually I provide support for her.

She had those dreams every night for a long time. One more thing the torture did to her. One more weakness on the list. And I was the only thing that held her together for a long time.

The torture was more aimed at me than at her. It was a reminder for me to behave. They knew I wouldn't care if I was hurt, so they used Lea. It broke her apart, down to the soul, so that she'll never be quite the same again.

And Lea just keeps moving forwards through all of it. She's incredibly composed despite everything.

"What now?" She asks.

I shrug. There isn't a lot to be done.

Lea turns and smiles at me, a hint of sadness on her face.

A blur of brown fur comes flying out of the adjoining room. It streaks towards Lea, but bounces off a vacant sofa.

Lea and I are across the room, both braced for an attack.

The animal looks up, wagging a shaggy tail. It wiggles in delight.

Lea sighs, "Smile, You nearly killed me."

The dog pants, running to her. Lea rubs its head, ruffling a fur. She's very careful not to look directly onto its eyes. The animal grunts in pleasure, rolling onto its back.

Lea smiles, rubbing its stomach, "Where're your friends, huh? I bet they're coming too."

I stand back slightly. Smile-dog and I don't get along too well. Despite appearances, he's not a dog. He's something else, far more sinister, and perhaps one of the most potent creatures I've met.

Lea jerks away from the beast as it makes to lick her face. It may not be a dog, but it sure acts like one. She stands, rocking back on her heels without using her hands, and steps back so she's slightly behind me.

Not so much as a plea for protection as an acknowledgement of a higher power, though it's some of both.

"I'm going back to bed," Lea says loudly, loud enough for anyone on the same floor to hear her. She walks to the coffee table, snatching a novel off the surface, then strides up the flight of stairs. I can sense her rubbing at her temple.

Smile looks at me, lips pullet into an almost human smile. The expression doesn't affect me like it does humans, maybe due to my lack of actual eyes. I just gaze back impassively until the grin fades, and then flicker on the spot, vanishing for a moment.

The creature huffs in an unimpressed manner. It shakes all down its body, padding out of the room.

I'm left alone again for a moment, unsure of what to do. Most people don't realize how curious I am about almost everything, and expect me to just do my own thing. Not the best idea, because I get bored easily, and when I'm bored I break things. Not on purpose, but it just kind of happens.

Sometimes I figure out a small thing, and that entertains me for a while. Puzzles, or something similar. That's usually what I do when I'm not hunting or talking to Lea. She finds the habit slightly amusing.

I don't know how many times I've broken something of hers. I dismantled her entire apartment once, but that was right off, not recently. Even then she wasn't angry, only thoughtful. She figured it out pretty fast, and that's what all the books are for.

Electronics don't work, so Lea found a bunch out a bunch of novels. Turns out mu vision isn't good for much, but it can do print. Yes, I can read. I know everything Lea does and then some.

It's part of the "changing" process between Proxies and Slendermen.

When she picked up the book it was an unspoken and nearly un-thought invitation. I know that, and I also know there are more people in this house than just the two of us. Which is just more reason to stay close to Lea.

It could just be Jack, or it could be something more aggressive and powerful. There aren't many creatures that will mess with me, but Lea is a prime target. The more trauma a person has experienced, the more likely they are to be victimized.

I slip away silently, leaving the house seemingly empty. Except for the being in the next room over, whatever it is.

?

The Inspector is just a little off. He's a little shaken, a little cracked, and more than a little desperate.

He just can't bring himself to believe that Lea, who he remembers as practically a child, is a- well, a, ugh, Proxy. He shudders slightly. Proxy; what a horrible word. It implies the person works for a Slenderman. It implies the person kills on a regular basis.

It implies something less than human.

But he can hardly deny it. Lea practically told him outright. She told him basically everything. She answered every question he had and he never had to ask. Correction, nearly every question. The only one left was "Why?"

Why was she a Proxy in the first place? Why did she kill all those people? Why would she release every single object they had? Just, why?

Well, she was alive, and that was something. Chances were she wasn't even in control of her own mind, not if she was a Proxy, but at least she was alive.

That was one of the theories; Slendermen control the Proxies like puppets. It's the only reasonable explanation in this situation. That must be it. Lea's not in control, it's not her doing any of this; it's the Slenderman. That must be it.

There's only one thing he can do if he wants her to live.

The Inspector takes a cell phone out of his pocket. He scrolls through the contacts and selects one.

The other person answers immediately, speaking with a slight Russian accent, "Hello?"

"It's The Inspector. You were right; I found one for you."

"Oh yes? The mighty Inspector needs your help?"

The Inspector frowns deeply. He hates being antagonized, but he can't afford to lose his cool here. "Yes, he does. I believe extermination is your area."

"We are Hunters, chuckles the voice, "we live to kill."

"Yes, well, I have a challenge for you."

"Oh?" The person is interested now.

"I've got a Proxy. I know where she is. If you follow her you can find a Slenderman."

"Female Proxy? That's a new one."

"And an old college of mine; so don't mess up."

"And you're just going to hand them over?"

"Kill the monster, that's all I ask."

"We can do that," The person giggles, "It'll be fun. It's not often we get such difficult prey. I've never killed a Slenderman before.

The Inspector frowns again, "I would appreciate the Proxy alive."

The voice loses all joviality, "Sometimes by killing one half you kill the other, Inspector. Proxies and Slendermen are usually distant, but there's an exception to every rule."

"Are you implying she would actually want to be a Proxy?"

"I wouldn't know Inspector, I've never met her. This seems odd."

"But you'll take it?"

"Yes, and the job will be finished as soon as possible."

"Tell the Bane I owe them a favor."

They'll hold you to that."

"I'm counting on it."

` "One dead Slenderman coming up," The person hangs up.

The Inspector stares at the "call finished" screen. He's feeling a bit strange, like there's a thought just out of reach.

"There's obviously something you don't understand," Lea had said. Something he didn't understand.

He understands all he needs to, there's nothing else. There are monsters, and they must be eliminated. They are only monsters, and they kill for fun.

But Lea said he didn't understand something.

**AN: **I typed this one while listening to Pastas, so sorry for any spelling errors or extra words you find. The plot thickens! Please review, and see you all in a week of so.


	5. Chapter 5: Lea

Chapter 5: Lea

I wake up slowly this time, turning my head to see everything. The novel is open beside me, resting with the pages exposed.

I must have fallen asleep while Slender and I were reading. We often do. One of us reads the book, and the other "listens" to their thoughts. I usually read, and he watches.

Always watches, no eyes. I smile at the words, sitting up.

I'm in bed, despite having fallen asleep on the floor.

I know Slender is dangerous, and I know he's a killer, but he can be oddly, intensely human. A tad protective to top it off. And then you see the spark of animalistic savagery and pleasure at killing, and suddenly you're shaking with fear.

I've seen it; when he starts to lose control he seems to loom larger, and the air crackles with unnatural electricity. Actually; I'm fairly sure that he does get larger. Slendermen can stretch, though the exact amount of flexibility differs between them.

All the Slendermen get like that sometimes, and the Proxies are aware of it; some stick around out of pure fear. The rest of us are genuinely fond of them.

I kick off the covers, wondering how long the lapse was between when I fell asleep and was put in bed. I've woken up between the two before.

I smile at the fuzzy memory.

I'm probably the strangest Proy the world has ever had the displeasure of housing.

I pull on fresh clothes from my duffle, mentally scanning the building. Don't ask how, but I have the uncanny ability to "see" if other people are around. Unfortunately, some are.

The other team must have come in early, which is just great news for me. At least the bedroom door is locked. Their presence means I'll be going without breakfast, which is fine. I'm not hungry. If I can make it out of the house without being noticed I'll be perfectly happy.

Of course; I could always just climb out the window, but it just so happens there's no fire escape on this building, so walking it is. No teleporting for me right now; I have to conserve my strength.

I snatch my small duffle off the floor, making a mental note to stop by a Laundromat on the way to my net mark. It needs to be done.

With that thought still in my mind I make my way silently towards the door of the house. I glance into the kitchen, and, as I expected, three bowls of the soup I made last night. Good; at least someone's enjoying it.

The people are in the living room. I can hear laughter and the chink of glass. Alcohol in the morning. They must be one of the scouting teams. Good for them; they don't have to get their hands dirty.

I look in on my way past. Team of three, all in their twenties, enjoying some relaxation before their job begins in the evening. They don't notice me as I move quickly past the open door.

At least, I assume they don't see me, but the sound of laughter ceases abruptly a moment later. I turn around with a sigh.

One of them is looking around the door. His face is flushed slightly, I'm guessing from the drink. I've never had alcohol myself; it's better not to put unpredictable substances into my system.

"Proxy-gi-" He starts, then halts, looking uncertain.

I wave my hand, smiling, "Proxy-girl; that's me. Hello." I was dubbed as such by Eyeless Jack, and it's become a nickname. It fits well, considering how few female Proxies there are, and as I'm the youngest Proxy yet it might as well be my formal title.

"Yes, uh, hello. There's a message for you." He says shakily. He's at least four years older than I am, and a good half-foot taller. You'd think people would grow a backbone.

"Is there?" I say, "I haven't gotten it."

"They sent a text."

"My battery's dead." Actually; it's been purposefully removed to prevent unwanted sparking, vibration, malfunction, and loss of data. Scouts don't know a thing.

"Oh, well," he shifts uncomfortably, "They need you down in LA. The observation teams dug one up earlier this week."

"Hmm," A special target. It sounds interesting. It's been a while since I had a challenge.

I put on my best sincere, happy, girlish grin, "Thank you for telling me," I bob forwards in a bow.

The scout's eyes widen for a moment, and he flushed bright-red. He disappears abruptly.

I grin viciously on my way out the door, listening to the flurry of conversation behind me. It's fun to mess with them. I enjoy it too much.

I have to change my route now and head to Los Angeles immediately. They can find someone else to cover the routine jobs.

I sigh; more public transportation. At least I have a couple good books with me. That will help pass the time.

It's odd that they would call me specifically. Either they've got something really out of the ordinary or they're trying to kill me off again. It will be the third time, but I survived the other two.

In fact, I don't think they'll be able kill me unless they pull the Eight Pages Dare. How they would get me to accept I don't know.

I'm probably walking into a situation with the odds against me.

"Did you that all that?" I ask silently, on the off chance that he was listening to the conversation.

There's no reply. I focus, checking what he's doing. I think he's asleep, judging by the images and mental activity.

Well, I'll let him know as soon as he wakes up. A couple hours max.

Until then…

Without breaking stride, I remove a phone from one pocket and pull a battery out of the other. I fit the power cell into its slot and power up the phone. It buzzes unnaturally in my hands, but obeys none the less.

Calls, voicemails, and messages; mostly are from my mother and father, but there are a couple from former so-called friends. And that one number that calls but never leaves a message. It must be some kind of telemarketer. And the message from headquarters of course, summoning me to LA.

I scroll through the messages while I wait at the bus stop, deleting most of them. There are one or two from old school friends asking generic things; where I am, am I okay, so on and so forth. I sneer as I delete those messages. The "friends" from my old life have no place in this one. I only became important to them when I got shipped off to a fancy boarding school and disappeared from their lives.

I call my parents one time; just to let them know I'm alright.

"Hey, Mom, Dad; It's Lea. Just letting you know I'm okay. I'm actually coming back to Los Angeles in a day, so I'll see you then. Expect me today, tomorrow morning at the latest. Bye."

It's not much, but it's all I can offer.

My parents took a back seat to everything else when The Inspector pulled me into this mess a year ago. I could blame Slender for it, but I simply don't have the heart. He saved my life, and even though he sometimes insists I saved his as well it's not the same.

They're worried about me because all they know is I'm not home. I told them basically nothing; a lie about traveling the states free of charge for a special class or something similar. I can't remember the exact details. They have no idea what's actually going on.

The bus pulls up and I get on, paying with cash for a ride to the train station. Traveling free of charge: I wish.

* * *

? (about seven hours previously)

The man's phone buzzes. He snatches it up after a moment, using one hand to set down his beer.

"What do you want?" He growls.

The voice on the other end has a slight Russian accent, "We got a special request that requires your assistance."

"So?"

"Your father runs the Proxies, we need information."

The man sneers. His father doesn't run the Proxies, but there's nothing wrong with them having that impression. "Hunters; the lot of you are good-for-nothings."

"That may be, but we still have a request for the extermination of a certain Slenderman."

He blinks, "Whoa; I can't allow that. We exist to protect them, not sell their lives to the highest bidder."

"It is rather unusual…"

"Oh, go on then; tell me," He replies, unable to resist.

The person on the other end of the phone grins, "We have a description of a Proxy, that's it. Care to ID them?"

"Well, okay then." A Slenderman's Proxy is as good as a fingerprint for an ID.

"Female, just topping five feet in height with black hair and blue eyes. Former Organization employee by the sound of it. My client says she's pretty young."

The man is scowling now, "Ya, I know the one. She gave me a nasty scar a while back. And it's her boss your client wants dead?"

"'And I would appreciate the Proxy alive,' were his exact words,"

The man frowns, sitting up, even though the other speaker can't see him, "Listen closely; that girls isn't your average Proxy. You put someone on her and they won't come back. Even if you manage to somehow kill her master; she's broken beyond repair. I'd give it a month before she comes apart, and there will be a massacre when that happens."

"I want the money; the state of the goods doesn't matter. The client can deal with that himself."

The man pauses, considering his options. He's not fond of the girl, in fact; he hates her. He would enjoy nothing more than watching her be ripped apart by hunters. He doesn't like her master much either; something to do with ego and the choice of Proxies. The man was supposed to be his personal, before he was attacked and wounded by the girl. He's still a little sore over it.

"Okay," He sighs, "tell you what; I'll give you this one. Lucky for you she's the highest surveillance level, so I know she's in Seattle at the moment. My advice is to lure her back to another city, Los Angeles would be the best, where you can hunt her down. I can get her there and you can do the rest."

"The Proxy isn't my mark, the Slenderman is."

"Scare her a bit and he'll show. Those two are close, very close." The man almost spits the words.

"The exception to the rule," The statement is calm, intrigued.

"Yes. We tried to separate them, but it backfired. Normally breaking the Proxy, but not killing them, will drive the Slenderman away, but it was just the opposite."

A chuckle comes across the phone line, tinny and unnatural. "I see; so that's it."

The man stares at the phone as if he could see the other person through it.

"Thank you for your cooperation,"

The man frowns, "She's going to kill you."

"She can try; I'll be in touch."

He sighs, "Damn hunters; all you cause is trouble,"

"That's the job," They hang up.

He immediately begins preparing a message on his phone, sending it into cyberspace. The Proxy-girl will come running, predictably, and right into the trap. A couple days before she shows, maximum.

Having the Hunters kill her will be a neat solution to a messy problem. She was scheduled for a block anyway, but not for several months, and on an extremely flexible schedule. There are several people, over a quarter of the Proxies, working to have the controversial procedure postponed indefinitely. Having the Hunters kill her would be infinitely better. If she goes insane that's alright too.

Of course; there's always the chance that she'll target him if she losses it. There's always the chance she'll remember, in her shattered mentality, exactly who took part in the torture that broke her.

He shivers; even then she looked dangerous. Facing her when she has nothing to lose is not something he ever wants to do.

If the Hunters want her, as far as he's concerned they can have her. His father won't mind.

The only three he can see putting up a fuss are Dr. Reed, Wolf, and Junior. He can't see Junior caring much beyond asking where she is.

"Okay, Proxy-girl," He grins malevolently, "let the games begin."

* * *

**AN: ***giggles evilly* I'm gonna have fun with this one. Happy reading to you all, and please review if you have the time! I love reading all the advice and compliments, and, yes, even the criticism.

Next chapter in a week.


	6. Chapter 6: Slender

**AN: **I don't like this one that much. It feels shaky, and the characters were putting up a fuss the whole time. Well… this is what I have.

* * *

Chapter 6: Slender

I stretch my hand up towards the ceiling, examining it intently. The fingers are long and pale, reaching farther than a human's. This hand cuts through flesh easily. It's been stained by blood and gore and caused many people's deaths.

It's also been someone's tether to sanity and life at their lowest point. I just got lucky the person understands the other half.

I'm lying with one leg bent slightly and one arm tucked beneath my head. It's the position I'm most comfortable in. I stay this way even when I'm asleep. Or, that's what Lea says; I wouldn't know.

She taps, mentally, to get my attention.

"Yes?"

"They've got something in Los Angeles; they're calling me in."

I pause, leafing through her memories. The way she learned about this is extremely strange. There's a feeling embedded in the knowledge; a suspenseful dread.

"Turn around," I order.

"What?"

"They'll find someone else. You're not going in there."

"I'm on the train already."

"Walk off. Lea," I pause, giving her time to realize how serious I am, "now."

"Slend-"

"Now."

There's a slight pause, then, "Alright. Give me a second."

I sit up, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. I'm in Lea's old apartment; I'm oddly attached to the space, and spend a fair amount of time here.

I follow Lea's progress as she grabs her small duffle bag and steps into the room between two cars. She takes a deep breath and vanishes from sight. As she materializes in the gray world she flickers repeatedly to disperse the momentum of the train.

"Now why am I not going to LA?"

"It's not safe,"

Lea frowns at the words, "It's a little odd. I thought they might be trying to kill me off again."

I make a displeased sound. I hate that- the Proxies trying to kill her. She's one of them after all.

"If they are they'll make me go," She reminds me.

"They can try," But I know they can. They have a trump card.

Lea makes a small sound, midway between amusement and fear. It makes me promise myself yet again that she won't repeat the experience.

"Will they make me?" She asks.

"Yes," The truth. If the Proxies want her to do something, anything at all, they will.

"But I'm still not going."

"Yes,"

"Okay."

"Whatever they say I'm still your master and they won't go against it."

She nods, saying nothing.

"Go back to Montana, at least for a little while."

"I promised my parents a visit."

I sigh, "They'll get one. Soon."

She nods again, "Can you give me a lift?"

I flicker out of existence, appearing before her. I offer her my hand, and Lea takes it, not looking at me.

I can feel the slight but noticeable charge in her temperature. She must be around 102, but her body is still functioning normally. Then again, my temperature is about 115, so I can't talk.

How at one point I could have been anything close to human I don't know.

Lea squeezes my hand, once. "Human describes the soul, not the body."

I can't respond to that so I don't. I only concentrate and step into the area around the intended destination. I feel the pull immediately, and ring the trip to a jarring halt.

The building is still a couple hundred feet away, but the reason I stopped was the feeling. There's an array in that house, and if I get any closer I'll be forced into an area with barely enough space to move. Also; the connection to Lea might be snapped. Then pain would be added to claustrophobia.

"They didn't," Lea mutters, "of all the tricks to pull…"

She ducks out of my grip and jogs towards the house. I stand perfectly still, being careful to not even lean forward. I watch Lea cautiously open the door, then step inside. She's dimming her thoughts so I can't see what she does. If I see the symbols, even through her, the negative effects might occur. Even so I sense her outrage and then a flurry of motion as she hurriedly covers something.

The array's power fades slightly, but I still don't move.

Lea comes out of the house a few minutes later. She walks to me slowly, measured.

"Can you move?"

"No,"

She frowns, "They spray-painted it onto the exposed wood. The best I could do was cover one of the symbols."

I still don't move. Lea reaches out and takes my hand again, squeezing slightly. She slowly takes a step away from the house. I mimic the movement, almost using her as an anchor against the pull.

We move that way for a hundred feet or so, Lea's light fast steps outpacing my long slow stride. Then the pull on me lessens and I release Lea's hand. I'm surprised to find I'm shaking slightly, but force down the residual fear.

Lea doesn't turn to look at me as she speaks, "L.A.?"

I don't want to let her go, but the Proxies are pushing me into a position where I have no choice. They're going to keep laying down arrays and locking Lea out of houses.

Fine, if they want Los Angeles; that's what they'll get.

"L.A." I agree, and then, "But you're staying where I can see you, and in your old apartment."

"But-" She stops mid-protest, looking up at me.

"Lea, let's try not to die here, okay?" I gesture pleadingly.

"Okay. I get it." She looks down, playing with her hands behind her back. "I missed my train,"

I lay one hand on her shoulder, pushing away from the house and towards the city.

The apartment still feels like Lea's living there; it always has for me. She steps away from me, a small smile on her face. Everything is exactly how she left it over a year ago. I might or might not be behind that.

She sets down the duffle, and I see her relax slightly, put at ease by the familiar scenery. "That's right," She claps once, "the Proxies don't know where this place is."

"Exactly,"

"I get it now," She nods, "But they're still going to make me hunt the target down."

"I know."

I still feel like going is a bad idea. I have the shadowy idea of a real problem coming our way.

I don't think I can stand anything happening to Lea.

She starts to reply to my thoughts, but is interrupted by a knock on the door.

Lea looks at me, making a motion to go into the other room.

I hesitate a moment, but quickly retreat after the person persists.

"Coming," Lea calls, leaping to open the door. She peaks through it cautiously, and is immediately swept off her feet by a hug.

"Oh Lea, Lea, Lea, it's good to see you," Her mother says.

I'm not comfortable with anyone touching my Proxy, but in this case I don't react.

"You too mom," Lea says, hugging the woman back.

"How've you been?!" The question is shrill, "we haven't heard anything."

"I'm fine, Mom, I'm fine," She takes a deep breath, burying her face in the woman's shoulder. "I'll tell you about it later."

"Come on, you can eat dinner with us," She tugs Lea towards the other apartment.

The girl resists, glancing back into the room, "One second. I'm going to do something pretty fast."

"Okay," She lets her go, but doesn't step back.

Lea turns away from her, snatching her duffle off the floor. She moves to her bedroom, setting the bag down. Then she spins to face me and throws her arms around my chest, which is as high as she can reach.

"Thank you," She says, then releases me, turning to go back into the other room.

I watch her leave, then sigh. What am I going to do with her? Lea's unpredictable at best, deadly at worst. But she is my Proxy after all, my Proxy-girl.

* * *

**AN: **Can you see the problem I'm having now? Ya. This even thing that's going to happen is set in stone. It has to happen.

Well, please review and tell me what you think. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7: Raun

**AN: **Maybe I should put a trigger warning on any and all upcoming chapters… hmm… Suffice to say this; I in no way approve of, support, or encourage self-harm, suicide, or homicide. And if you're struggling with any or all of these issues I'm always free to have a chat with you. Please review and enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 7: Raun

Raun steps out of the air effortlessly. The spinning vortex of purple behind her shrinks and closes. She stands for a moment, glaring into the sunlight with a scowl.

She pulls her sleeves up over her hands and approaches the small cottage. The leaves under her feet crackle and snap, dry in the late autumn air. The trees are still aflame with color, reds, yellows, oranges, and browns. The girl allows herself a second to enjoy the scene.

She knocks briskly on the door.

"Come in," calls a voice.

Raun steps into the neat cabin carefully, breathing deeply. She can smell the house's contents; everything from the stuffed hydra's head on the wall to the ornate angel-feather pen on the desk. The scent of blood is everywhere; demon blood.

The smell makes her feel a little sick.

She looks over the weapons; the sword, shield, dagger, and sculpted bow. They look like something out of a fantasy game; shaped of a strange shimmering metal and carved with cryptic runes.

She can practically feel them tearing into her.

Raun glares at the weapons, as if just looking will make them somehow be worthless. She turns away after a moment.

"Sensei," She calls, savoring the feeling of the word in her mouth, "it's me."

"Raun! I'm just in the kitchen, wait a moment."

Raun leans against a side table whose legs are tipped with gray-clawed feet. Genuine, of course. The blanket on the couch was pulled from a Hell Hound's back and the lamp is fashioned from a bone, the shade snake-like skin. It's a hunter's paradise, she thinks, lip curling slightly in disgust. The creatures are just that; animals, and evil at that, she reminds herself.

A woman comes around the corner into the room. She appears, if not old yet, more mature. Her brown hair is streaked with gray, her face is sallow and thin, her hands frail but steady.

"Raun," she croons, holding out her arms for a hug.

Raun doesn't step forwards. She straightens up and bobs in a slight bow, "Sensei, good to see you."

"Again with the 'sensei' thing. Can't you just call me 'master' or even 'Elisa'? Why 'sensei'?"

"Because Japanese is a language largely ignored by the Bane. And I like the sound of it."

"Well at least you're honest," The woman smiles tiredly.

Raun reaches inter her pocket, removing a small orange bottle with a white lid. She shakes it, hearing the clacking of pills against the plastic.

"Here," she offers the bottle, "Your medicine."

Just for a moment there's a look on the woman's face, something sad and dangerous. Raun pulls the bottle back abruptly.

She's wondering if that look was what she thoughts. She's seen that before; on the faces of hunters who saw their families ripped apart. She's seen it on normal people whose arms are scarred. She's seen it on her own face as she stared into the mirror.

Raun glares at the woman, "Do you know what happens if you take too many of these?"

The woman pauses, hand held out slightly.

"You won't die," Raun hisses, "Understand? It won't kill you. Do NOT take more than your prescription."

The woman nods in understanding, reaching for the bottle. Raun frowns, pulling it back slightly. Finally she sighs, allowing the older woman to take the object.

"Are you still using steel weapons?" She asks nonchalantly, attempting to hide her emotions.

"Yes," Raun replies.

"They aren't as effective you know."

"I get by, thanks,"

"Someday they won't be enough."

"That will be the way I die," Raun sniffs. Her weapons have served her well. They aren't traditional hunter fare, true, but she has an aversion to the materials used on other weapons. So called "blessed metals" make her skin burn.

"Uh-huh," The older woman sounds disinterested, examining the bottle. She rattles the pills around the container.

Raun watches, shifting uneasily. She's worried about her sensei's mental state; it's not stable. No Hunter is completely mentally sound, but the woman is on even shakier ground than most.

She's one of the oldest hunters alive to boot, and that means she's constantly expecting death. Almost every Hunter is marked for an early death. Not like they're star-crossed lovers, but simply no matter what they do they will never live as long as other people. The fatalities usually occur because of risky hunts or unfortunate encounters with creatures better left undisturbed, but every single Hunter, minus the Bane of course, goes before reaching 60. The only reason the Bane live longer is that they don't stick their necks out quite so far.

Raun's expecting to have her own life cut short before the age of 50 one way or another. Her sensei is currently pushing 40, maybe more.

Most of them don't make it past 30, which explains why there are so few pure-blooded members left. More and more recruits are normal people, and they're dying fast.

"Sensei," Raun says slowly.

"Yes,"

Raun starts to tell her all of it. About Lea and The Academy, The Organization, and what was left of the lab. She starts to mention the girl who's a Proxy, and she how she can tell, even if she doesn't want to, and about Rabbit, who she stole. About the assassinated man, who was placed in her charge, and how the whole room smelled of Proxy afterwards. Then she stops.

The woman doesn't care and doesn't need to know. She'll just be disapproving Raun got into this position at all. It's not like she's going to help anyways.

"Never mind," Raun says, a little sadly.

"Okay," The woman says, not even looking at the girl.

"Goodbye Sensei,"

"Bye,"

Raun starts to leave, keeping her head up. The opens the door, stepping out into the clean air.

"Oh, Raun, honey," The older woman calls from inside.

Raun sighs, shoulders slumping slightly, "What is it?"

"Find yourself a friend."

Raun scowls, "Yes sensei," she says formally, closing the door behind her.

She doesn't need friends; she has family. The largest family, spreading across the whole world. The Hunters are a family, after all, one huge family. Who needs friends when you have family? And she has Rabbit too. What more could she need.

Certainly her sensei is joking about "friends." It's a cruel jab at her anti-social tendencies is all.

Raun brushes the meaningless thoughts aside, calculating a far more important statistic. How many of those pills would it take to trigger a transformation? 5? 10? 25? Surely her sensei had seen some pretty horrifying things in her life, but so had Raun, and her sensei was a hundred times stronger than she was. Right?

There was no way the woman would try to take her own life. Not possible. No way.

Raun scowls, promising herself she'll come back in a couple days to make sure things are alright.

* * *

**AN: **One day late, and it's a bit late. My explanation is that I was participating in a competition late yesterday and spent all day before that freaking out about it. Anyway, I love this chapter because it mixes things up a bit. I know this is a long build-up with not a lot of action, but it's getting there. This one needs a lot of background. Lifetime I just slapped down a backdrop and went with it. For this I'm building a set. Stick with me, and I promise excitement is coming soon.


	8. Chapter 8: Slender

**AN:** This chapter is written in to give you guys more of Slender's point of view (which people ask for more of constantly) but it's basically a filler chapter, so you can completely skip it if you want to. I'm going to go over any information in this chapter again later in the story. Also; new chapter again tomorrow.

* * *

Chapter 8: Slender

Lea is lying face-down on the couch, face pressed against a pillow. "This is why I don't visit a lot," She mumbles.

"You just spend an hour with them and you're already annoyed?"

She shrugs, "They don't understand and I haven't told them the truth. It's not their fault."

"You could just tell them," I know the answer already, but I say it anyway.

"No," Comes the forceful reply. "I can see past it, the Proxies can see past it, even the Inspector could see past it if he cared to look, but they couldn't. They're too settled, telling them now would disturb their entire life."

"See past what?"

"The killing," She sighs, sitting upright, "to me it's just how it is. To them it's a serious crime, one that needs to be punished,"

I remain silent at that. I should pay more attention to her, thoughts so this kind of thing doesn't startle me. It's that her thoughts move so fast sometimes I can't see them properly. I never quite know what she's going to do.

"Can I go hunting with you?" She asks.

See, like that, "Why would you want to?"

"I need to clear my head, and it sounds interesting," She looks at me pleadingly.

I hesitate. I don't really want her to see what happens when I hunt. I can still scare her sometimes and I hate doing that. "No,"

I see her start to reply, but she stops. Her eyes flicker, and her face softens into a small smile, "okay."

Most of the time we don't even have to talk. She figured out all my thoughts in a single moment and she understands. I'm most grateful for that; understanding.

I've seen what happens to the other Slendermen, and it's not what I want to become even. The other personals I've seen don't even come close.

Lea frowns, peering into her bag. Her hand disappears inside it, and she drags out a small bottle. "Found one," She says, popping the lid open.

"How much do you have left?"

She taps the now empty bottle, "That was the last one."

That removes my last scrap of choice concerning the special target. If we want any more she'll have to take the job.

"How long can you last?" I ask.

"A day and a half," She shrugs, "Longer if I trance some of the night,"

The trancing is a kind of sleeping so deep it appears to be a coma. It's a natural defence mechanism; when any kind of poison or sickness needs to be eliminated. It's the reason that Slendermen can be injected with any poison or venom known to humans and live. How Lea can even perform the action is a mystery. She can though, and control the reaction.

She does have a kind of poison in the medicine, so that might be behind it. Maybe "medicine" is the wrong word.

"Then do that,"

Lea nods.

There's a knock on the door again. Lea pushes herself off the sofa, crossing the room. She opens the door.

"Hey Mom, what's up?"

"I'm just seeing if you need anything,"

"I'm alright, thanks," She starts to close the door.

"Lea,"

"Yes?"

"Has there been anyone else in that apartment?"

Lea blinks, "Why?"

"Well, I go in there sometimes to tidy things up, and it looks like someone's been in the bed, or the furniture's been moved."

Lea looks bemused, "Really?"

Her mother nods, playing with her hands nervously, "I moved some of the furniture around, little things, and the next day they were back where they were before." She looks Lea straight in the eyes, "I think someone is staying in there."

Lea laughs a little, "It's fine Mom; don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes,"

"Protect yourself; you never know."

"I have the best protection anyone can," Lea grins, "I'll be fine."

"Okay. See you in the morning."

"See you," She closes the door, leaning against it. "You move the furniture," She asks me.

"I put it back after she moves it," I reply.

"She always did rearrange things." Lea looks thoughtful, "I think it confused her more than anything."

"Are you fond of your family?"

Lea pauses for a long moment, "Yes," She finally replies, "But not like most kids. They're my parents; I have to love them, but I don't really respect them or look up to them."

I can tell she's being honest. Lea might not be the most truthful person, but she never lies to me. It's not the reply I expected.

"Don't tell the others," She says, "They'll just tell me I should be grateful to have parents."

"They would know,"

"True," She sighs. "I'm going to bed. Wake me up in the morning if I'm still trancing."

She goes back to the bedroom, locking the door behind her. She mutes her thoughts so I can't tell what she's doing.

Sometimes I wonder who has more of a hold on the other person. Strictly speaking Lea is the Proxy, but it feels like we're tied together so that neither of us can escape.

It was either that or watch her die, and I couldn't let that happen. I just couldn't.

I give Lea a few minutes to start the trance state, and then a couple more so she's in deep sleep.

For a moment I consider not going in there and just spending the night hunting, but the pull proves too strong, and I flicker into existence seated on the bed.

Lea is laying on her side, black hair spread in a silky halo around her head, I can see the long ugly scar on the inside of her forearm.

I'll get rid of that as soon as I can. I hate seeing is, and I hate that it exists at all. I add the detail to my mental picture; the unmarked arm.

The image has to be perfect in every detail or it won't work. I spend hours on it, examining it for any mistakes. If I want Lea to stay intact it's vital.

She's barely breathing, but that's normal for trancing. The heartbeat drops to under 60 beats per minute. It's meant to slow bodily functions to a crawl until medicine is administered or a natural solution can be found.

Lea already has a lot of non-human characteristics; this isn't abnormal for her.

Maybe her life isn't all bad experiences and ticking clocks. She often insists to me that it's not, and sometimes I believe her.

I brush a strand of black hair away from her face, tucking it behind one ear. For a moment my mind overlays scars onto her flesh, a bloody bandage concealing one eye, then it's gone.

I'm used to the sight of blood, but the image sends a bolt of anxiety through me. Lea getting hurt never fails to scare me. It often appears to be one of my worst fears.

Is it ironic that someone who personifies fear is scared of something so simple? Too bad Lea is asleep or she would reply.

I turn away, allowing my mind to wander. It jumps from topic to topic, analyzing the strange request for Lea to hunt down a target. Logic and past experiences says she can handle anything they can throw at her. I trust Lea to take care of herself, but there's always a twist. Maybe, just maybe, they found something that could kill her.

I reach out to stroke her hair, smoothing its length. She stirs slightly, barely a pause in her breathing. She presses back against my hand, fingers moving slightly.

I remain motionless, careful not to wake her. When she settles back into sleep I slowly lay down next to her, wrapping my arms around her torso. I tune my hearing, listening to the slow beating of her heart.

* * *

**AN:** New chapter tomorrow, and then I'm going on vacation for a week. No internet, no updates, but I'll be writing the whole time in my binder. And hopefully there won't be any complications. I would hate for this stuff to get rained on… again. (In case you didn't read Lifetime at one point the rough draft of chapters 1-11 was rained on for 3 days straight). Anyway, please review, and I'll see you all when I can!


	9. Chapter 9: Lea

**AN: **As promised. Please review, and if you need me; I'll be in the desert hiking around in the blistering heat and generally feeling bad for myself.

**Answering Reviews:**

AutoLeaves: Hello! Thank you for the compliments, I'm flattered. Feel free to keep giving feedback and/or advice.

* * *

Chapter 9: Lea

"So what are we looking at?"

The masked person twitches in surprise, turning their head to see me. It's absurd to use the masks now, in daylight, but it's a Proxy tradition of some sort so I abide by the unspoken rule.

It takes the man only a moment to register my height and mask design. I sense a slight change in his attitude, and more than a little disbelief in my actually showing up.

He swallows. "You see him," He points at the crowd of people three stories below at a man.

The person he points out is in a tight T-shirt, one that shows off his sculpted arms. His black hair is slicked back to expose a high forehead. My eyes track down his body, finding it not so much bulging with muscle but, rather, defined. He must have worked hard to look that good. He's achieved the kind of look any girl will melt for, and I'm no exception.

"Got him," I reply, allowing my eyes to take in the details. This guy could have made it as a male model if he wanted to. "What's the pattern?"

"There's a little club downtown. Every night, like clockwork, leaves at midnight on the dot." He nods, "Not a bad place."

I scowl beneath the mask. Had to be a club, didn't it? I hate the places, though I love music.

"Address?"

He wordlessly hands me a piece of folded paper. I don't even bother looking at it; I know every inch of the city.

I watch the man weave through the crowded street, people parting before him like the red sea. He really is, to use slang, hot. Attractive so I can't think straight. I close my eyes, trying to detach my brain from my body.

I focus on the slight but noticeable pain beginning to curl in my torso. How long before not taking the medicine catches up to me?

"What's it like?" The Proxy asks suddenly.

I turn to look at him, "What is what like?"

"Being a personal,"

I press my lips together, "In general or for me in particular?" In truth I'm a little shocked he asked at all. It's rare that any of the Proxies actually try to start a conversation or even talk past giving information.

"In general,"

I sigh, "For most it's lonely and demanding. Every order is to be obeyed without hesitation, whether it be to follow a victim or murder a friend. The masters are highly volatile and unpredictable, and they spend most of the time in fear. What rewards that come out of it must be great or the Proxy would soon give into the stress and either expire from exhaustion or take their own life." I look down, "You hear about it every couple of months. There's nothing worse for both the Proxy and the Slenderman."

He's just looking at me through black-circled eyes. The mask's expression is at odds with his wide gaze.

I take a breath, about to take pity on him, but I stop myself. He did ask in the first place, but I need to get moving if I'm going to shadow the target at all. He's moving slowly, but he's moving. I stand up.

"What about you?" The Proxy asks.

He must be an observer to be this curious.

I take another breath, feeling the repressed words rise up easily, "For me, personally, it's like having another half I never knew existed. It's demanding, but well worth the effort." I shake my head, searching for an accurate description, "It's like… seeing the stars for the first time; when it fills you with this great sense of a huge world just waiting for you. That feeling."

I close my eyes for a moment, remembering. When I open them again the man is sitting, looking at me oddly.

I feel my face flush slightly, and am suddenly grateful for the mask. "It's hard to explain,"

He nods, looking back at the street, "You're not what I expected."

"You're not what I usually get."

"Is it really like that for personals?"

"There's a reason so many of us are found hung or shot through the head."

He nods.

I pick out the man again, now a good block farther down the street. Down the fire escape, I decide. I'll tail him today, and tomorrow I'll finish this quickly.

I head towards the metal structure, tugging the mask off my face and stuffing it into my backpack. I take a breath of cool air, ignoring the harsh flavor of pollution. I check the target's position again. He's moving pretty slowly, taking his time. If he can be on the kill list and still behave so calmly he must be special.

I'd better go to the Proxy house after this; give myself a base to work with. I hear a faint rustle behind me at the other Proxy follows. He's staying a few feet back, creating a rift between both physically and psychology.

I don't try to close the space until we're on the ground.

"Are you going to keep following me?"

"Should I?"

"Do you know what you're getting into?"

"Yes, I believe so."

I sigh, secretly grateful for the company. "Stay close,"

I step out of the alley, falling back next to him. For the next few minutes we have to act like we know each other. Hopefully he understands that.

We cross the street and turn onto the sidewalk, moving not fast and not slow. The groups of people shopping and chatting provide cover for shadowing the target.

"What's your name?" I ask, turning my head slightly towards him.

"Mitch," He turns his head towards me so that I'm looking into deep brown eyes framed by dark chestnut hair. He must be about 18, looking down at me slightly.

"I'm Lea," I say, breaking eye contact abruptly, before it lasts too long. Eye contact says a lot, and I've learned never to make it with Proxies.

Mitch makes a thoughtful sound, "I thought it was Lila."

"Not unless someone changed it while I wasn't looking."

"Well… gossip changes the story more the farther is gets,"

Oh well isn't that brilliant; I am being gossiped about. Not only that, but it seems every last Proxy on the planet has heard about me. "I suppose I've also killed a hundred men, taken out the leader of The Organization, and tames a scab-dog." I'm only half-joking.

"Actually," He trails off, embarrassed slightly.

A giggle escapes me, "Wow. They give me too much credit. I haven't done any of that stuff."

The target makes a turn a quarter of a block ahead of us. I quicken my pace to the corner, leaving Mitch behind slightly. I wait for him to catch up before turning after the man.

I watch carefully as he strides along yet another street, going who-knows where.

"None of it?" Mitch asks after a moment.

"Nope. It's completely myth," I grin, "First time I've seen anything get this blown out of proportion."

The man stops to peer into a window. He combs his fingers through his hair, making my stomach tighten. I hold my breath for a few seconds before letting it out. He straightens up after a moment and keeps moving.

"And you're fine with that?"

"Everyone was either going to hate me or keep their distance anyway," That's how it normally is. "Now be quiet unless it's for cover. This is going to be tricky."

"That's too bad," I hear Mitch mutter, barely audible above the crowd. I ignore it.

The target is moving towards a less crowded area, which means he'll have a better chance of spotting us behind him. If we stay far enough back we should avoid notice, but then he might slip away. I suppose it doesn't really matter whether or not he sees us now, as they've had people following him for days now, but it's part of the ritual. I usually do the reconnaissance by myself, so having the information delivered to me is a treat.

Come to think of it; why a club every night?

"Hey, Mitch,"

"What?" He sounds slightly annoyed.

"What does he do for a living?" I ask.

The man frowns, "Nothing as far as I can tell. He just wanders around all day and goes to the club at night."

I stop dead, causing several people behind me to swerve around me. He just wanders around all day? What got this guy on the list anyway? It had to be more than a simple witness case with all the surveillance and the strange behavior.

Staying away from work after a life-altering experience isn't uncommon, but wandering city streets is.

I slowly start walking again, staring at the windows of shops as we pass them. Fancy goods, clothing, appliances, and the latest technology stare back. I watch as a smooth blue prom dress slides past.

My eyes flick back to the target, pinpointing his location. He's certainly abnormal, to say the least. If he's established a pattern since whatever incident got him on the list I doubt he'll break it.

"Is it high-end?"

"The club? Ya, a little."

I turn away from the target, frowning. Really, there are only three choices; kill him before, during, or after he goes to the club. After would be my first choice, but in my experience it's difficult to get someone alone and vulnerable after something like that, especially when they're as together as this guy is. He won't be one to drink himself into a stupor.

To catch him before he can arrive at the club will mean tailing him until he enters a secluded area in broad daylight. Generally the Proxies try not to get caught.

If I can kill him while he's actually inside the club there will be a lot of eyes but few witnesses, and lots of chaos. I could be out in a matter of seconds, and nay fingerprints, DNA, or other evidence would be eradicated by the sheer number of people in the area.

It's probably my best option. I have a couple contacts I could ask. They could provide what I need, and I will need some stuff.

I glance sideways at Mitch, thinking I might as well try, "I don't suppose they'll give me anymore if I skip this one?"

He's apparently been briefed on this because he looks confused only a moment. "No," He replies, looking down.

I sigh, "Tell them I'll do it, but I need a refill first. They'll understand what I mean."

He nods, pulling out a mobile phone.

I cast one last glance at the target and turn around, going into autopilot as I weave through the crowd. Speed is imperative; I can already feel the white-hot reaction in the core of my being. I can't follow this guy all day unless I want to collapse and, probably, be put in a hospital for a few days.

I hear rapid footsteps approaching and sense Mitch's already distinctive presence. "Should I have them send it to one of the houses?" He asks quickly, using the hushed tone of people when they're on the phone.

"Why not," I say, giving him the street address for the house I use in the area.

He turns away, finishing the call. I hear him fall into step beside me.

"Are you going to stop following me?"

He doesn't reply immediately, presumably thinking it over, "No."

I don't want to have to worry about yet another person. Between Slender, Jeff, EJ, BEN, not to mention Clockwork (Who seems to have it in for me) occasionally, my parents, old school friends who won't leave me alone, and Raun, wherever she is. I hope Mitch knows I have a lot of people to look out for, and he's nowhere near the top of the list.

Still; I only shake my head helplessly and follow my internal compass to the Proxy house.

* * *

**AN:** A little about Mitch: I don't know where this guy came from. I don't know why he's here. He was useful for about three seconds, and he refuses to leave me alone. (The characters are doing their own thing and I'm basically just writing it all down). He's kind of annoying me.

I'll see you all in a week, please review (Even if it's not within 48 hours of me posting because I love reading reviews and they make my day everytime).


	10. Chapter 10: Slender

Chapter 10: Slender

I'm aware Lea is going to base herself inside a Proxy house, and I know she has no intention of spending more time there than absolutely necessary. She let me know both of these things before leaving that morning.

She hasn't been communicating a lot since then, only the occasional blip of consciousness. The connection is still intact, just not being used for more than location. I used the time to hunt, the universal pass-time for my kind, and actually killed one woman.

I admire her courage. It was brave, if stupid, to come at me with a carving knife. It's not often any of them fight back, so I enjoyed the change of pace. She died quickly, as they all do. That's one thing I don't do; draw out their deaths. I don't make them suffer or cause only superficial damage. I strike once, quickly, and kill them in an instant.

And, unlike some, I don't have a great love for fire. It's one of the things that is never to be joked about.

I focus on Lea again, bringing her end of things into sharp focus. Even through the dimmed connection I feel her twitch. Then she opens her mind to let me see through her.

"Hello," She says with her thoughts, being careful not to vocalize by mistake.

I send her a wordless greeting in reply, my mind startled for a moment by color and sound. I'm so used to my limited senses that hers sometimes shock me.

I hear her footsteps, the sounds of a city, of people. I can also hear another set of footsteps, heavier than Lea's light steps, doggedly keeping place.

She's got someone else with her. I send a questioning feeling, still not using words.

Lea has no such problem, "It's the Proxy they sent to brief me. He followed me."

"And you let him?" Lea usually flicks off followers quickly.

"If he wants to hang around he can. He knows what he's getting into."

I take a breath, but don't voice any of my doubts or concerns. I can tell why she's letting the Proxy follow her. She's trying to make someone, anyone, understand. I understand her, but she wants the Proxies to know what it's like. Maybe this one can.

The first time he tries anything I'll kill him. Lea doesn't need yet another scar.

Lea reaches the door to the Proxy house, she opens it slowly, body tense. As soon as she steps inside her hand comes up and knocks away an incoming blow. She twists and hits the person hard in the gut, making them gasp in pain.

"Sometimes I wonder if you even try," She says, stepping farther inside.

The person straightens up, wincing, "I try. Nice punch."

"Thanks. Nice ambush."

"You always see it coming."

"Someday I won't come in first and then you'll kill someone."

"I long for the day." He smiles a bit.

Lea grins back, "How are you?"

"Not bad."

"Jack and BEN around too?"

He shrugs, "I think so. I only just got here."

"Okay," Lea reaches back out the door, grabbing the frozen Proxy by the wrist and pulling him inside. She closes the door behind him.

"Sally and Lacy?" She continues without missing a beat, "Clockwork?"

"Nope,"

Lea sighs, "Sometimes I wish there were more girls around."

"Come on Proxy-girl, you think that would end well?" He gives a slight chuckle.

"No. The only reason my head is on my shoulders is your relative sanity."

I like to listen to this banter. Lea's second layer is this shell. Also; it's something I will never experience. The inhumanity of my appearance, voice, and presence has assured that.

Lea frowns slightly at the thoughts pattern. She turns back to the man, "Hey, Jeff, did any boxes come in before I got here?"

Jeff shrugs, watching the second Proxy attentively, "Nope. Were you expecting something?"

"I was hoping the Proxies might actually be fast for once," She scowls.

He glances from her to the other man, then back, "Who's your friend?"

"He followed me,"

"Because you let him,"

"I can't teleport right now unless I want a fever of 120."

"You can Slender-walk?" The second Proxy cuts in.

Lea and Jeff both turn to stare at him. Jeff's face is lit eerily from the side by the light, throwing his scars into sharp contrast.

The man shifts uncomfortably beneath their gaze. Finally, Lea sighs, "Of all the rumors that didn't spread. Yes I can Slender-walk. You have no idea how much I hate that term."

"Why is he here?" Jeffery asks.

"Jeffery, Mitch. Mitch, Jeffery. There; now you know each other's names." She leaves the room, throwing her backpack onto the table and pacing up the stairs. "Come get me when the stuff gets here. I don't feel good."

Jeffery and Mitch exchange a glance. Even for my limited knowledge of human communication I can clearly see the mutual uncertainly there. Jeff appears a little more worried than confused.

Lea's just about to go into a room when one of the doors opens into the hallway. A blue-masked face appears, a good six feet above the ground.

She smiles again, "Hey Jack."

"You okay?"

"I'm late a dose," It's the first time she voiced the problem to anyone else.

"Oh…" He trails off, "try to take it easy." Jack is the only one who knows about the medicine besides the two of us. Even he doesn't know what it's for.

Lea nods, entering another of the rooms. I notice she chose the room with two beds again. There's one in every Proxy-house for whatever reason, and Lea always stays in it. She locks the door behind her and sits against the left-hand bed. She doesn't turn the light on, leaving the room lit only by the gloomy half-light filtering through the window blinds. She sighs, leaving her head back against the mattress.

"Does it hurt?" I ask, well aware that she keeps physical pain to herself, containing the sensation entirely.

"A little," She admits, then adds, "It feels like my insides are rearranging themselves slowly."

I can't do a lot in this situation. Lea's pain is hers, after all; I can't take it away. She just has to wait.

I appear beside her, on the floor. For anyone else it would have been shocking to see me do this, but Lea only opens one eye to see me, then close it again.

"That's new," She comments, "it's the first time I've seen you sit down here."

I don't respond, just remaining perfectly motionless. The days when Lea expected a reply are over.

"How long do you think it will take?" She asks, mental voice portraying slight distress.

"Not long," It's the only answer I can come up with, and I hope they do, for once, make this a priority.

She nods once, quickly. I press one hand against her forehead, feeling her unnatural heat. It's definitely higher now, and more noticeable. I can't tell exactly how high, but I feel a seed of apprehension. I will it to fall, as if that will do anything.

Lea holds her breath for a long time, trying not to move her chest too much. I think she was under-exaggerating the pain. In fact I'm fairly sure she feels like there's a fire burning her organs.

"Do you want painkillers?"

Lea nods again. "I can get them," She says. I watch her push herself to her feet, steady despite the pain. She closes her eyes for a moment, then opens the door to the hall.

She taps on Jack's door. He opens it after a moment, "What is it?"

"Do you have any pain medication I can use?"

Jack stares at her for a moment his expression impossible to read behind the mask. His head turns slightly towards her door, which she left slightly ajar. Then he turns away, rummaging through an unseen satchel.

He turns back, placing three small red pills in Lea's hand. She looks at the items, then looks up at Jack. "Advil?" She asks, slightly disbelieving.

"I can't give you anything stronger in case the effect carries over," He explains.

Lea sighs, "Okay." He raises her hand and swallows the pills without hesitation. "Thanks Jack."

"You're welcome."

"Hey, Lea!" A shout comes from downstairs.

Lea looks to see Jeff, leaning over Mitch who has his hand over his mouth and the other pressed to his stomach.

"Your follower isn't looking too good," Jeff calls.

Lea scowls, watching the man groan in pain. "Mitch," She calls down.

He looks up at her, eyes watery from pain.

"Take another pill you moron!"

The man's eyes widen, and he fumbles in his pockets, pulling out a pharmacy bottle half-filled with pills.

Lea winces, pressing one hand to her side. She turns away, coming back into the room with me. She locks the door behind her, leaning against the wood a moment.

She coughs once, in response to the pain. I see her pause, caught in uncertainty for a moment. Then her shoulders slump slightly and crosses to sit beside me again. She hugs her knees, resting her chin on them.

She leans towards me slightly, closing her eyes, and hums quietly, picking out a melody. I think I remember it from somewhere, in the past. Maybe from her past, maybe from mine. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference.

Lea stops humming, "I give it ten minutes before he figures it out,"

"Do you think The Killer will explain things?"

"If he doesn't Jack will. I can't right now."

"You should sleep," I say, hoping that it might slow the reaction.

Lea nods, "You're right. Will you wake me up when it gets here?"

I send confirmation without words, and Lea allows her forehead to rest on her knees. I sense her mind being forced into the trance state and detach myself partly so she won't be woken by my thoughts.

In her last moment before she falls asleep Lea moves across the space between us and presses against me.

I don't move at all until I'm sure she's asleep, then I wrap one arm around her. I'm fully prepared to stay that way until she wakes up.

* * *

…

Mitch

The man hurriedly swallows the small pill, praying it will work fast. Slowly the nausea fades, and he can breathe again without feeling his lungs spasm in protest. The black around the edges of his vision recedes.

Mitch straightens up, breathing heavily. He brushes brown hair out of his eyes, and gives the man beside him a sheepish grin.

Mitch is still processing the person's appearance. Of course he had heard rumors, all different, about him. Still, standing in the man's presence is shocking to say the least. His skin is almost white, the hair black and hanging loose, There are black circles framing black eyes, which blink despite the popular "lack of eyelids" theory. The thing that clinches it are the scars. They form a ropey raised grin, stretching on after the mouth, almost ear to ear.

Mitch is willing to bet he has scars from old battles everywhere, not just self-inflicted. Without those scars he might have doubted the man's identity.

Jeff the Killer. Who would have thought.

The Proxy-girl did associate with them after all. He thought it was just a rumor. Mitch shakes his head, trying to dislodge a strange buzzing hum in his mind. The pills; he should have thought of that. It's been so long since he actually had need of the medication. HE's just an observer, and doesn't often come into contact with-

Wait a moment.

Mitch freezes in place, sensing the low humming. They can't be serious. No way this is true. He takes a deep breath, looking to the Killer.

Jeff has turned away, leaving Mitch on his own. The man follows him after a moment, thinking it's better to stay with him than be on his own. If his suspicion is correct then anything is better than being on his own.

Jeff enters the kitchen space of the floor. He opens the fridge and searches through the contents.

"There's one here, isn't there?" Mitch ventures.

"One what?" The man doesn't even look up.

"A Slenderman."

Jeff stands up, holding two bottles. He offers one to Mitch who takes it without thinking.

The Killer nods after a moment in response to the question. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was."

Mitch blinks in surprise.

Jeff grins widely, stretching the scars. It's clear he's going to enjoy this. "He's here quite often, thought I doubt you'll see him. They're very reclusive, and more than a little paranoid about new people."

"He?" Mitch says slowly. The word sets in his brain. Not "it," "He." It's a familiar word. This Slenderman is always around, and Jeff's met him. Several times.

"He," Jeff nods in confirmation, "He's Lea's boss."

Mitch nods, still processing the information.

Jeff twists the cap on his bottle, tossing the lid into a trashcan. He takes a swig from it. Mitch starts to follow suit, but he's suddenly reminded he's still underage and needs his wits about him. He sets the bottle down unopened.

He remembers what Lea said before, but he didn't take it seriously. He assumed she was exaggerating.

Mitch turns towards the stairs, walking towards them. Jeff doesn't try to stop him, watching with a smile that seems a little concerned.

Mitch finds the door based on the vibration in his head, which increases to an almost unbearable frequency when he reaches it. He raises a hand to knock, rapping fairly hard. There's no answer. He knocks again, louder, and gets the same response. The man bites the inside of his lip, twisting the doorknob. Locked.

Mitch takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. He can't believe this is happening. Okay, okay, here we go. He reaches into a pocket and pulls out a lock-pick.

He feels a prick on his back, in the place his kidneys could be bruised by a punch. He used to box, before all this happens.

"Do you want to die?" A voice, mellow and deep, asks.

Mitch shakes his head slowly.

"Then be smart and leave that door closed. He'll kill you."

"But-"

"Do you want to be disemboweled by a Slenderman?"

Mitch drops the lock pick, stepping away from the door.

"Come on," He's grabbed by the arm and hauled backwards towards the stairs. Mitch half-protests all the way down, continually being silenced by the person pulling him.

They reach yet another room, where Mitch is almost bodily thrown onto a couch, and the person turns away.

"Jeffery," They say disapprovingly.

"Hey Jack, want a drink?"

Mitch rolls over, sitting up. He freezes when he sees the person who hauled him all the way here is wearing a blue mask with dark circles for eyes and black fluid stains beneath them. The man slowly lays back down, unable to make sense of what just happened. Eyeless Jack. Eyeless-freaking-Jack had just dragged him away from that room.

Being a Proxy is one thing; this is quite another. Next thing you know-

Mitch hears breathing. Despite himself he opens his eyes. A boy no older than 10 dressed in green with a stoking-like hat is looking back at him.

Mitch closes his eyes.

"I think I triggered him," Says a childish voice.

Someone sighs, "Proxy-girl needs to think before she does things."

Then Jeff's unmistakable raspy tone, "Is she alright? She didn't look too good earlier."

"I don't think so. She came to get pain meds from me earlier."

"That's not good-"

Mitch presses his hands over his ears. Yup; insane. Totally and completely insane. You're losing it Mitchell Mcjonas, you're going insane. Congratulations.

Someone taps his shoulder, and he opens his eyes slowly. Eyeless Jack is looking back at him, head cocked slightly to one side.

"Get up," The being says.

Mitch sits up, forcing himself to look around.

"Let's get this over with," Jack sighs. The being stares at Mitch for a long time, as if considering his personality.

"Let me explain," Jack starts.

* * *

**AN:** This guy… he annoys me so much. Mitch is making a point of hanging around. I'm learning to put up with him. Anyway, please review. And it's nice to be back. Update next week. See you all then!


	11. Chapter 11: Lea

**AN: **I must confess I don't like this chapter very much, but I have a time gap that to fill, and it's too short to justify the use of a time skip. So… this chapter, then one more, than interesting stuff starts happening. If you want you can skip both this one and the next. It might make is bearable for you.

* * *

**Answering Reviews:**

Autoleaves

Thank you for telling me. I fixed it.

Dest123G

He's not all bad, and he finally seems to have a purpose in chapter 13, which I finished the rough of a few days ago.

Everyone else:

Thank you for the compliments and such! It means a lot to me that so many people enjoy my writing.

* * *

Chapter 11: Lea

The bad thing about trancing is that it takes a lot to wake you up. You can wait to resurface yourself, which can sometimes take days or even weeks. Or someone can wake you up, which usually means shaking your shoulders, or even slapping you if you're under too deep. Slender just shocks me mentally, which is preferable to the alternatives.

After you wake up, it's also very hard to pinpoint exactly woke you.

As wander back into consciousness, before I open my eyes, I become aware of two things; it feels like my guts are twisting around inside of me, and there's someone holding me with one arm around my waist.

For one second I'm absolutely terrified, and twist to be free from the person's grip. They let go almost reflexively, moving away.

I blink in the gloom, shifting. I swallow down the echoes of fear, which are drowned by an overwhelming wave of pain. In that moment everything comes back to me. Despite myself I let out a small whimpering cry, letting my head rest on my knees. I have to focus to contain the pain to my own mind, but I won't allow it to bleed over to Slender.

I wait for the pain to become bearable before raising my head again. I look beside me a little guiltily, knowing I just hurt Slender. I send him an apology his way. He doesn't move, but patterns of thoughts and emotions tell me it's okay.

Someone knocks on the door. "Proxy-girl," Jack's voice, soothing, "something's here."

I sigh in relief, pushing myself to my feet. It's here. I shudder in pain for a moment. "I'm fine," I reply to an unspoken question. The pain is making it difficult to understand his thoughts.

He might say something else, but I can't hear anymore. Now a kind of boxed-in feeling is creeping up on me. I shake my head helplessly, hoping he understands.

I open the door to the room just wide enough to slip out. I ignore Jack, gritting my teeth, and walk down the stairs.

There's an old-fashioned wooden crate on the counter. I remove the lid with some difficulty, my fingers clumsy.

The sight that meets my eyes is rows of small bottles filled with translucent pinkish liquid.

Without hesitation I pull out one of them, pop the cap on it, and drink the salty-sweet liquid. I try not to think about what exactly it is I'm ingesting. I pause and wait half a minute for the fast-acting substance to go to work. I feel a little better, the pain fading slightly.

It's not enough.

I set the empty bottle down, snatching another from the crate. That helps a lot; my head stops spinning and my insides resume their normal positions. I still can't concentrate and my body is operating almost without eyesight, my vision grayish and unfocused.

A third bottle sharpens my senses to a fine point. I close my eyes, feeling my regular rhythms reassert themselves.

"Better?" Slender asks.

I nod, relishing the feeling of his mind. I open my eyes, looking into the box again. There's plenty in here, enough for at least a month. Good. I gather up the empty bottles and set them back in their places.

I turn around to see Mitch staring at me. For a moment I don't remember who he is, then I look away and sigh.

I need to think before I act. I could explain away the action due to my medicine, but it's really my fault. I turn back to the man, pulling another bottle from the crate.

"Here," I hold it out to him. The man walks forward slowly to take the object. He looks from it to me, confused. I make a gesture for him to drink it.

It won't hurt him. In fact it's an apology for dragging him into this.

He looks at me dubiously, then slowly pops the cap on the bottle. He raises it and takes a swallow. He squints, gagging at the flavor. He removes the bottle from his mouth, still half full, and looks at me like I'm insane.

I hold up one finger, "wait." I watch as his eyes suddenly go wide and he presses against the ground, hopping slightly in place.

"Wow," He says, "I feel great. What is this stuff?"

I stare at the liquid, watching it slowly darken in the bottle, "You don't want to know."

That shuts him up.

"Here," I hold a second bottle out to him, which he takes almost eagerly. "that will speed up healing, sharpen your senses, cure any contagious disease or most conventional poisons."

"Seriously?" He asks.

I shrug, "Think of it as a special item in a videogame. Hold onto that one for the boss battle, whatever that may be for you."

He nods.

"Where's my 'thank you'?" Jack asks, "I was the one who had to explain things to him."

I wince, "Sorry about that. It was my fault."

"Well at least you own up to it. Someday that's going to get you killed."

"You would know," I say, completely serious.

Jack nods, not replying. Silence for a moment while we let that sink in, then I hop off the stool I'm sitting on and follow the reversed Song of Healing into the next room.

Ben turns away from the keyboard as I enter the room. He grins as he sees me.

"Hey Lea," He says. He's not using his child-like form, instead of settling on a muscular teenager a year or two older than I am. One positive thing about being a spirit inside a videogame is you can re-write your own code.

I pause, turning to look at Mitch, then back at Ben, then at Mitch. "You used his body as a template," I say to Ben, pointing behind me at the man.

"So?" He grins at me, "You like it?"

I run my eyes along the version. I feel no attraction towards Ben, no matter what skin he tries on. "I prefer the dark hair," I say finally.

"Well excuse me for being blonde," He whines.

"You're excused."

Mitch makes a sound behind me, somewhere between surprise and fear. That's normal. Maybe I should just throw him out now and be done with it.

"Wanna play?" Ben asks, gesturing towards the television.

I frown, taking a step towards the electronic. Immediately the frequency of the hum of electricity changes, becoming more screeching. Statics crackles from the circuits.

"No thanks," I step away again, eyeing the screen warily.

Ben shrugs, "What about you?" He turns to Mitch.

The man looks surprised, "Uh…"

"Good idea," I grin, "Go on Mitch; entertain yourself." Maybe he'll stop following me around like a puppy.

The Proxy steps forward hesitantly. Ben tosses him a remote underhand, he catches it. I can tell he games a lot by the way his hands settle on the device.

I smile, leaving the room. Next I track down Jeffery.

He's sitting at the table in the other room; I didn't even notice him earlier, staring at his knife on the bare wood. He's holding a bottle in both hands, pretty zoned-out.

I frown. He doesn't look good. The compulsion may be returning in a destructive and possibly deadly wave. If that's the case I'll need to make sure Mitch isn't in the line of fire later.

I make sure make noise as I approach so I don't startle him. I sit in one of the other chairs at the table. "Jeffery," I say.

He looks at me, shaking his head as if he didn't notice I was there. "Oh, hey Proxy-girl."

"Hey."

"Feeling better?"

"A little, how about you?"

He rubs his head, "The voice is back."

I grimace, "How long?"

"Couple days?"

I nod, holding out my hands to him, "Arms."

He holds out his arms to me, palms up. I reach out and push up the sleeves of his jacket, exposing his forearms. They're crisscrossed with scars, only just beginning to fade. I run a hand over them, feeling the raised skin under my fingers. There are no new cuts.

This always makes me sad. I sigh, "Jeff, why would you ever do this?"

"It helped,"

"No it didn't. Don't say otherwise."

"Would you rather I kill other people?"

I look into his eyes, completely serious, "Yes."

He looks away, eyes twitching nervously.

I pull his sleeves back up, covering the scars. I squeeze his pale hand. I don't know if what I'm doing is right. I don't know if I should do anything at all, but at least I'm trying. He's getting better.

I see Jeff's eyes start to un-focus, and a crazy grin spreads across his face. My stomach twists in apprehension.

"Jeffery," I say, still holding his hands, "Hey, Jeff."

He doesn't respond.

I release one of his hands, snapping my fingers in front of his face. Jeff's eyes snap into focus.

"You'll be alright." I promise him, "just keep it together until dusk."

Jeff looks at me again, his eyes black, deep black. He nods, his grip on my hand tightening for a moment before we both let go.

I almost linger there, but I can feel Slender's mind humming at a frequency so high it would hurt to listen to. I turn away after a moment, leaving the scarred man to his own devices.

I might talk to Jack, if it's necessary, but it's not. It never is. Jack keeps just a close a watch on them as I do, probably closer. He's known them for longer after all. He's probably well aware of how everything is going, including my own state of mind.

I poke my head back into the room where Ben and Mitch are. They're sitting side-by-side, like they're good friends. Ben doesn't have a controller, but on-screen his character moves with more accuracy and grace than Mitch's. I observe as he does a neat flip, landing squarely on top of an enemy, and dispatches him with a shot to the head.

I'm going to remember that one.

Mitch hisses in frustration, fully aware that player one is not in any way obeying the in-game physics. There's a reason why I never play PVP with Ben.

I smile, deciding not to interrupt them.

I slip back up the stairs, leaving the crate where it is for the moment. I'll move it later. I probably won't be leaving this house until after dark, not with Mitch here and Jeffery needing a shove. Jack and Ben will probably clear out too, to take part in the extremely eventful night life for all nonhumans. Whether they come back the next day will be largely up to chance.

Well at least I don't have to deal with Laughing Jack. I've never been particularly afraid of clowns, but that is one Pasta I hope to never meet.

I close the door behind me, leaning for a moment against the wood. Slender is standing, gazing out the window. The light is cast so that, while the street below is lit, he's hidden in shadow. It would probably be eerie for anyone else to see that, but for me it's not surprising.

I peer around him to see what he's looking at. A group of kids, probably no older than I am is below us. They look like they just got out of school for the day, but are goofing around in the street. A couple of the boys are scuffling, one has the other caught in a headlock, and is punching him playfully. The boy whose head is caught is shouting, pushing against his captor. A group of other kids is nearby, watching. Some of them are yelling encouragements, some laughing.

It's an interesting and slightly alien scene. I don't recall one time in my life that I'd been involved in such activities.

I spot one girl farther down the street. Her straight brown hair falling to cover her face. She's clutching her books to her chest, head low.

As she approaches the group her head comes up, and she takes in the scene with a blank look on her face. Then she tucks her head back down and keeps walking.

I point to her out the window, "See that girl?"

Slender nods slightly.

"That was me," I state, still following her with my eyes.

He shifts, possibly to see me, and I feel the rhythm of his thoughts change slightly. A strange humming comes from him, a different frequency from his normal presence.

All the students pause, in unison turning their heads towards us. They look up into the window. I can feel it affecting me too, my eyes being tugged up towards him.

It's like the energy is forcing me to examine his appearance again, for the millionth time.

The girl with the brown hair stops, looking up. She might see me through the window or she might see the faint shape of Slender. Either way I see her face shift to a look of fear. She almost drops her textbooks, practically running past the building.

Slender and I watch her go.

"She's not you," He says.

The rest of the students continue on, glancing around warily. They group together like a herd of spooked sheep. I watch them move off.

"She's not," I agree with Slender.

I turn my head to look at him, giving in to the frequency. It's not easy to describe any Slenderman, but my master has always been particularly difficult.

I suddenly want to curl up against him, but I push down the desire. Control over that kind of thing is important. Proxies do not grow attached to their masters. Slendermen do not care about their Proxies.

Ordinarily.

Slender looks down at me, making me look away. He cocks his head to the side slightly, then sets one hand on my head.

I duck playfully, reaching up to push at his hand. Our fingers intertwine, and stay that way for a moment before we let go. We both freeze for one beat, two, and then the tension dissolves and I can breathe again.

This kind of situation is becoming increasingly common. Sometimes they drive me crazy, and sometimes I enjoy them. I always come away from them with the push-pull straining within me, harder and harder to resist.

I reach out and take his hand again, giving in to that emotion. It's not the same as holding Jeff's hand; that's more difficult in a way. Slender is more natural, more in-tune.

Jeff has so much strength too; it hurts sometimes to have him squeeze your hand. I know with certainly that if he were to suddenly to lose control he would snap all my fingers.

Slender squeezes my hand gently, causing a shot of warmth to go through me. His fingers tremble slightly, then he drops my hand, concentrating on containing a feeling.

I slide easily through his mental defenses, partly out of curiosity, and immediately my mind is nearly blasted away by light so bright it leaves my every thought and emotion exposed for a moment.

I slam my own mentality back into place forcefully, momentarily receiving a view of my own personality and being thoroughly unnerved by it.

I am a sick person deep down.

Slender reaches over and rubs my head again in way of both an apology and a temporary farewell. He flickers out of existence, leaving me to carefully construct the limits of my mind.

I hurriedly cast them up, preferring not to stare to stare t my animalistic desire to kill for longer than 30 sec. if I can help it.

Below that there's something else, but I've never been able to see what it is.

I sit and stare out the window, watching what is becoming a steady flow of people moving up and down the street. I'll wait here until Slender gets back. He won't be gone long anyway.

* * *

**AN:** Eh… I still don't like it. I need to go easy on the fluff.

Please review, blah, blah, blah. Ya.

Oh, ya, if you're reading this; I'm thinking about starting to take requests for short one-shot stories on this or on any other subject I'm familiar with. Please review or PM me, and I'll toss all the requests into a hat and chose one a month or so, depending on my moods and boredom. I'll write just about anything.


	12. Chapter 12: Slender

**AN: **Not my favorite chapter, but I don't want to edit too much and lose the flow of my original writing, so here it is. Typed it up while listening to Creepypasta, so I apologize in advance for any typos.

Answering reviews:

ChellSky: It's in the bag. Only one at this point, so looks like it will be the one I type up this month. Unless someone else sends me a one-shot prompt (hint, hint, nudge, nudge)

Chapter 12: Slender

The stalking takes a long time, but when the person is final dead and the light fades from my mind, I can finally relax. The negative surge of anger and lack of all other emotion renders the entire episode in a kind of fuzzy half-aware trance. I cut myself off from Lea almost entirely, completing the empty void-like feeling.

The experience was almost exactly what my life was like before, and it reminded me of the unending blurred existence which was what I had during that time. If a realization can be any more unnerving than that I haven't come across it yet.

I open the channel between my mind and Lea's. I'm surprised to see that she hasn't moved, still sitting at the window, looking out of it. The light is turning blue, signaling approaching dusk.

Lea blinks sleepily, shaking her head to force herself into consciousness. "Better?" She asks.

I reply with the mental equivalent of a nod.

She rises, stretching, "I have to get Jeffery out of the house," She says, a little depressed.

I don't respond in words, pressing my mind against hers. Lea shrinks away from the contact for a moment, then returns the pressure. Our mentalities overlap momentarily, providing an eerie feeling of double emotions.

We separate our minds again, making it easier to function. Lea trails one hand along the windowsill before leaving the room.

I think my Proxy is lost in nostalgia. I hope she doesn't become depressed, though she would probably be entitled to it. I won't let her torture herself.

I bide my time as she goes downstairs. She finds Jeff still at the table, though there's a distinct feeling that he's moved since the last time she was there.

"Jeff," She says as she approaches. The man doesn't respond. Lea frowns slightly, creasing her browns. "Jeff," She says again, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder.

The killer visibly starts, jolting at the touch. He turns to face Lea in a rush, and I tense, but he relaxes.

Jeffery shakes his head, bringing himself back into reality, "Hey Proxy-girl." He reaches up and takes her hand, squeezing it before letting it fall.

I sense Lea grind her teeth together as he does so, and put the action down to Jeffery's unusual strength.

"It's time to go," She says, by way of explanation.

The man nods, getting to his feet slowly, focusing on control. "Wanna come?" He asks, completely serious.

Lea pauses, glancing towards me mentally. She shakes her head, "No. I'm still recovering."

The Killer nods, taking his knife from the table.

Eyeless Jack comes down the stairs, moving lithely. He's pulling his mask on, making sure it's secure. He glances towards Lea and Jeff, who's turning towards the door, and nods once.

He swings a backpack onto his shoulder, "Not coming?" He asks Lea.

She shakes her head again, "I just had one a couple nights ago. I'm fine for about a week."

The man nods, following Jeff.

Lea looks towards the room where Ben and Mitch are, and sees that the ghost is dissolving into green numbers which wind their way into the computer.

There's a final hiss of code, a snatch of childish laughter, the door closing and the entire house goes silent.

Lea sighs, her mind relaxing slightly. I get the feeling her inner self is curled into a ball, head resting on knees. "That's done," she states the obvious, "I'm going to make one call and then head home,"

I send a confirmation, then withdraw from contact so that the phone will work for her. She picks up the house's landline to make the call, not using her cellphone.

I only dimly hear the conversation, though Lea sighs a lot during it and constantly brings the other person back to the main topic. She scowls, then retorts with something blatant. I get the idea it's not Dr. Reed, her Proxy mentor, on the other end.

Finally she hangs up, stepping back from the device with a sigh. I shift my physical body, which is in my gray-scape world, slightly, simply for something to do.

Lea turns towards the box of medicine, trying to say something to me. I hurriedly reconnect with her mind, making her smile slightly. She pulls one of the bottles from the container, swallowing the contents.

"The Proxy is right behind you," I inform her.

Lea nods, "I know." She replaces the now empty bottle in the crate. I notice the objects are actually stacked three deep, and relax slightly, knowing that Lea will be fine for weeks.

She doesn't turn around, but gestures to Mitch, who's behind me. "Go ahead and talk."

The man swallows hard. His mouth opens, and he blurts out, "How old are you?"

"16," Lea replies, "15 when I became a Proxy,"

"Are you really a personal?"

Lea smiles wryly, and I chuckle to myself; if only he knew.

"Yes," She replies, "but I thought you knew that already."

He shifts, "I don't know what to believe."

Lea grins, "Smart," She comments.

There's a slight pause after that, until Lea asks, "Have you ever actually seen a Slenderman, Mitch?" She hops backwards, boosting herself so she's sitting on the counter beside the box.

The man looks away, "No, actually,"

Lea raises her eyebrows.

"I mean, someone must have taken an interest, right? Someone high-up, or I wouldn't be here." He shrugs.

Lea is almost pitying him, and I can't blame her. She had gone down this road blindfolded, so had I, but this guy, like so many others, had been carried in a cage. The Proxies recruit while minds are fresh and bodies are strong. They don't explain until you're committed, and they show no mercy.

She shakes her head slowly, "Someone saw potential, but unless you had symptoms it wasn't one of them. Most likely a scout saw you peaking around corners and tagged you as a possible observer."

"Oh," The man sounds almost disappointed. "So there's a chance none of them ever even noticed me."

He's just like other Proxies. He's hopelessly caught up in the idea that Slendermen are good and fair to their servants. They all want to be noticed, like young school children. That's why personals are simultaneously admired and despised.

"No," Lea shakes her head, "Certain Slendermen make it their business to see every single Proxy, and to almost watch over them. Take Wolf for instance."

"Wolf?"

She smiles, "Yup. Blue tie, scar on his right wrist, about 12 feet when he's relaxed. Nice guy. He watches almost every initiation and recruitment."

"Really?" He's definitely an observer. His curiosity is so extreme that I find myself wonders if Lea can give enough information to satisfy him.

I don't like Wolf much. Within a few minutes of meeting my Proxy he had asked for her to become his personal, and a few minutes after that she was being tortured. Prior to the first time we met he assumed I didn't exist. After that he finally got the message and left Lea alone. It took far too long to understand, and he was a Slenderman himself. This Proxy couldn't comprehend what was happening at all.

"It's better not to talk about Wolf," Lea shudders slightly.

"Is he your boss?"

"Don't talk about it," Lea snaps, then elaborated, "But no, he isn't."

"Oh,"

Lea grits her teeth and her secretive tendency comes back. She turns away from him testing the weight of the box. She needs to move it later, we need to move it.

She grunts, lifting the box a couple of inches. "Too heavy," She says to me, "I won't be able to do it on my own."

"I'll get it," I promise easily.

"Thank you,"

I'll get the box after the man is gone. I'm still not comfortable around people I don't know. Lea grins, "Thank goodness you know me."

"What?" Mitch asks.

Lea blinks, "Did I say that out loud?"

He nods.

"Sorry, habits."

"Really? What from?"

Lea shakes her head, "It's complicated."

"Proxy-girl, you are the hardest person to understand I have ever come across."

Lea looks surprised, then she laughs, "You have no idea."

I send her a question.

"No," She responds silently, "It'll just scare him."

"Time for us to leave," I prompt, knowing she'll take it as an order.

"Okay, let me get him out of the room." She hops down off of the counter, walking into the living area. Predictably the man follows her.

When they're both out of the room I appear and lift the crate easily, vanishing as soon as I do.

About half a second later, as I'm putting the box down in Lea's apartment, Mitch sticks his head around the door. He looks puzzled, then spooked.

"Hey, Proxy-girl, your crate's gone."

Lea shrugs, "Don't worry about that; it's not a big deal."

"You seemed pretty concerned earlier."

"It's fine. I have to leave too. Take my advice and lock your door tonight. Jeff might decide you're an easy target."

"You said you weren't going with them."

"I'm not. I'm staying somewhere else tonight,"

"You sure?" He gives her a long look.

She scowls, "Yes I'm sure." She walks towards the door, opening it briskly,

"Can I come with you?"

Lea stares at the man like he's insane. Then she gets a sadistic smile on her face, "If you can keep up." She closes the door and vanishes instantly.

The man opens the door and is left staring in disbelief at an empty street.

Lea appears in the apartment, across the room from where I am. She looks for me first, then for the box, and then to be sure there's no one else present.

"I don't like him," I say.

"He reminds me of someone else," She agrees, frowning.

"You spent quite a while with him,"

"He followed me."

"And you let him,"

"I spend time with Jeff and Jack too,"

"I know." Why does she have to be so argumentative? Why doesn't she comply like the other Proxies do? I could just make her obey me, but I would never forgive myself for that. "Be careful around him, okay?"

"Are you my dad or something?"

The insult cuts deeper than it should, and I visibly flinch at her words. I look away.

Lea instantly fills with remorse, "Slend… I'm sorry."

I don't respond.

She crosses the room, watching me carefully in case I vanish. When Lea reaches me, she looks up with big eyes and makes a pleading gesture, sending me her thoughts. I understand she spoke without thinking first, but the remark hurt a lot; something I can't portray to her. She understands the general idea.

She finally says, "He reminds me of James,"

I nod slowly. She's more wary of him than anything, and cares for Mitch about as much at the man James, who she gutted and let Jack feed on when he was starving.

I put aside my own emotions for a moment, holding one hand out to her.

Lea smiles slightly as she takes it, her fingers cool against my palm.

"I don't think of you as a father-figure," She says after a moment.

"I know,"

She nods, interlacing our fingers. I find that the words actually healed most of the previous hurt.

"I'm going to kill the target tomorrow and we can disappear again."

"Why kill him at all?"

"The Proxies will make my life hell if I don't."

Silence in which we both remain perfectly still.

"I'm sorry again."

I ruffle her hair with my other hand, Lea ducks away. She reaches up and pushed my hand away, smiling.

"It's alright," I say, meaning the words.

Slendermen do not become attached to their Proxies. Ordinarily. But there's an exception to every rule. This one just happens to be me.

**AN:** *frustrated sounds* I'm building a bomb shelter again. If you read my last story you may remember the bomb shelter. This I am making in preparation for chapter 14, which none of you will thank me for. Hooray foreshadowing! Please review, blah, blah, blah. I'm going to go try to talk to Lea again…wish me luck.

See you all next week!


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